Without Your Heartbeat
by Sarah Cartwright
Summary: Sarah is forced to marry Jareth as the Underground plummets toward a darkness like nothing the world has ever known. COMPLETE
1. Prologue

"Without Your Heartbeat"

by,

Sarah Cartwright

[Disclaimer: All rights to "Labyrinth" and said characters -excluding the ones I introduce from my own imagination- belong to Lucasfilms and Henson.

Prologue:

"You have no power over me!" Sarah declared softly, almost in a whisper.

At the moment Jareth felt his heart shatter. He had no choice: she had won and she didn't want him, so he gave her what she wanted…

As he flew away from her house in his owl form, he felt tears sting his eyes as the weight upon his heart threatened to crush him. He had watched her for years, playing on her bridge, pretending she was a princess. He had waited for years for her to call him into her life and now it was over.

When he had finally returned to the Underground and resumed his proper form, he wistfully listened to himself breathe her name, soft and long, pronounced with a sigh and heavy sorrow. Her name felt so sacred, so precious upon his lips he repeated it continually has he paced through the halls of his castle; each time uttered with an increasing tenderness.

It was then that he began to realize why she had left and he cursed _her_ for it. After all, if he could only have spoken to her with all the kindness and gentleness he hid within his soul, she would never have rejected him: he would have been her prince (king, at least), the man her girlish heart had dreamed of everyday on her little bridge. –Did she think he didn't know about her fantasies?—But, no, she preferred to see _him_ as vile and cruel, the greatest fiend she could imagine, and so, because she wished it, that is what he became.

Oh, he was cruel, indeed –he was still the Goblin King, after all— and gentleness never came easily for him, except for when he was looking in her eyes. Something in her eyes pulled and tugged mercilessly at his heart. She had defeated him long before she entered the Labyrinth, for she had awakened a warmth within his being the first time he saw her. The game was never about Toby; it was about Jareth being able to win _Sarah._ He thought he had won with the illusion of the ball, when she was in his arms dancing with him, then she left and the agony ripping through his soul was unbearable.

Her eyes were so cruel: they were so innocent and pure, too young to see him for who he was behind the sneers and scorn, too young to understand that even Goblin Kings fell in love. Even so, not even her youth could deny how she felt when she was in his arms. She could tell herself that it was all part of Jareth's spell, but deep in her heart, she would always know the truth.

And it was in that moment, that precious gleam within Sarah's eyes, that Jareth rested his hopes. He no choice but to put faith in it: eternity without Sarah was far too long.


	2. Chapter One

[Disclaimer: All rights to _Labyrinth_ belong to LucasFilms LTD and Jim Henson. --This excludes any characters produced from my own creativity.

Chapter One

"A New Life"

Sarah woke up Saturday morning, almost thinking the night before had been a dream. –After all, she had defeated the Goblin King, not to mention the Fieries. –Nonetheless a feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it was all horribly real. She could still see Jareth's face before she uttered those fateful words. It seemed strange to her that, of all her toil, she should remember that moment most of all.

"WAAAHHH!!!!!!" Toby screamed from his crib in the master bed room.

Sarah threw off her covers raced to him, tearing open her bedroom door and Toby's in the process. Part of her was still a little afraid that the goblins would come back an kidnap him out of Jareth's sick idea of revenge, but the main reason for her fervor was a promise she made to herself in the Labyrinth, when she was walking aimlessly through the maze while she heard Toby's cries from within the castle. She promised that she would never let anything make him cry again.

"Toby…" Sarah cooed when she saw her brother sitting up in his crib, tears streaming down his round cheeks. "Toby, what's the matter" She asked, taking him up in her arms and rocking him.

Karen had never been more surprised in her life than she was that morning to find Sarah holding Toby. For a moment she just stood in the doorway, frozen with shock, watching as the fussy toddler went from crying to cooing with his sister's comforting and attention. She was almost tempted to get out a camcorder (for evidence), but at last she smiled and turned to walk back downstairs.

The day she had prayed for had finally come. Sarah had come around.

[Six Months Later

The rain pelted mercilessly against Sarah's skin as she ran into the house, slamming the door behind her. She could feel her heart pounding within her chest as she leaned against the door and closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember how to breathe.

Today was her sixteenth birthday. Her father and Karen promised to take her into the city next weekend as a family celebration, but since Tommy Fletcher had asked her out that night, they encouraged her (especially Karen) to go out and have fun. Of course, they still went out to dinner, but on that occasion, they just hired a baby-sitter and told Sarah to relax.

How little they knew…

"Mr. and Mrs. Williams?" called Stephanie, the sitter, from living room where she had been watching television.

"No, it's me." Sarah heard herself reply. "Is Toby asleep?"

Stephanie walked into the front hallway with her hands shoved in her jean pockets and nodded. "He's out like a light. –Did you have a good time?"

"It was alright." Sarah answered, forcing a pleasant disposition. "You can probably go home now. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay, thanks." Stephanie said, smiling as she gathered her things. "Have a good night." She chimed as she opened the door.

"Thanks for your help," was all Sarah could say, closing the door behind the teeny-bopper and locking it.

Half an hour later, after checking on Toby and taking a hot shower, Sarah sat at her vanity and stared at her reflection in the mirror. It didn't even feel like she was looking at herself, like the person staring back was a stranger. She knew, she could call Hoggle, or Didymus, or even Ludo, but she couldn't find her voice within the knot in her throat.

She felt completely deserted, completely alone, and completely helpless. She yearned to lay her head on someone's shoulder, to feel someone's arms around her: protecting her and comforting her, but no one was there.

In an instant, the knot gave way and expelled itself from her body through tears. She could feel her own shoulders shake as she laid her head upon her arms and gave in to her tears, wondering if they would ever stop. Every time she told herself it was over, that she was calm again, the sobs just came flowing back, afresh.

"I wish," she gasped, choking a little, "I wish…I wish Jareth were here." Her voice came out softly, almost in defeat, but with the passionate conviction one only allows to live for a moment in their beings.

"What's said is said," stated a voice behind her.

Sarah turned on her vanity stool and saw him standing before her, wearing tan riding pants, knee-high boots and a navy jacket, with his brow arched and his mouth held in a firm line, indicating annoyance.

"What's the matter, Sarah?" he asked, coldly, "Why are you wasting my time calling me here?"

"I didn't mean it!" Sarah retorted impetuously, turning back to her mirror in anger.

Jareth only watched her as a smirk teased the corners of his mouth. He knew she was lying and he loved the fire in her eyes when she was angry. It was better to see her angry than crying any day.

"I'm upset," Sarah continued, notably flustered by his appearance while she was in such a vulnerable state. How could she let _him_ see her cry? "When people are upset, they say things they don't mean."

"Really?" he questioned, "One would have thought that _you_, of all people, would have learnt better."

Without explanation or reason, his last statement shattered the feeble defenses Sarah had thrown together since realizing he was in her room. Her steely nerve wore down and she seemed to melt completely as her head fell back onto her folded arms, her dark silky tresses falling over her crown like a blanket.

Jareth could hear himself sigh as he watched her. It was so absurd! He had been watching her all night, he knew why she was crying, and his heart had broken with every tear she shed as he gazed at her through his crystal. He had longed to come save her, to come comfort her, then, (miracle of miracles) she called for him! …And now, now that he was in the same room with her, he couldn't even touch her. He couldn't even speak civilly to her.

Sarah had hurt him once and he couldn't bear to let down his defenses enough to give her a second opportunity.

Yet there she was, crying her precious head off and, behind his cold unfeeling demeanor, he could feel her tugging incessantly at his heart strings.

"Oh! Come now!" he sighed, disguising his feelings with annoyance. "I really can't stand all this weeping and carrying on." His voice sound rough and callous, even his face looked irritated, yet the Goblin King drew nearer to Sarah and placed his hand upon her shoulder, causing her to look up and see the handkerchief he held in front of her. "Here," he said gruffly.

Sarah took it and dried her eyes meekly, unable to find her voice long enough to offer thanks.

Jareth stood watching her, his arms crossed over his chest, wondering how long before she finally told him what had happened. Of course he already knew and the anger still burned within his breast, but he knew better than to let a teenage girl know that he had been spying on her. Sarah had to tell him on her own.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "Well, there's no point in holding it all in," he grumbled, "best to be out with it and get it over with."

At this, Sarah quickly went back into another fit of tears, causing Jareth to inwardly curse himself for his pigheadedness as he watched her throw herself face down in the pillow over her twin-sized bed.

"Sarah…" he half-sighed, half groaned, as he strode to her bed and sat down on the very edge of it.

For a long moment, he just sat there, watching her, his eyes softening as his resistance wore down.

"Come, come," he urged, forcing his voice and trying to hide the desperation hiding within him.

"Tonight's my sixteenth birthday," Sarah finally began, her voice soft, almost defeated.

Jareth smiled faintly. He knew full well it was.

"Tommy Fletcher took me out to the movies, then for pizza," she continued, her voice a little more ragged.

At this, the Goblin King scowled, but he remained silent, giving her time to finish. When Sarah didn't go on, he put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle rub. "Go on," he prompted.

Sarah swallowed hard and carried on.

"After pizza he took me to the auto-shop at school," she said. "I mean, at first it was okay: we just talked about movies and stuff, then he kissed me. I pushed him away and he tried to kiss me again…" Sarah paused, deciding she had given the Goblin King enough of an idea. "He got ticked off because I told him to stop. He said he took me to the movies and bought me dinner; I should at least give him something in return… It's not fair!" Sarah burst into tears yet again.

She remembered the last time she said that to Jareth and she expected him to respond with something along the lines of _"I have yet to understand what your basis of comparison is." _But he didn't: he just kept rubbing her back comfortingly.

"No," she heard him sigh. "No, it isn't. –Such a pity…"

Sarah stopped crying and closed her eyes when he moved his hand to her head and began to stroke her hair. She knew she shouldn't, she knew she should be terrified, but she felt so safe with him there.

"_I can't believe we're not fighting_," she thought as she mentally went through all the things she _should_ be saying to the Goblin King.

"_Get out!" _

"_Stay away from Toby!"_

"_Stay away from me!"_

"_Why do you care about what happens to me anyway?" _

Had the Goblin King put her under a spell? –It wouldn't be the first time. How could she have fallen for it?

"WAAHH!!!" Toby cried from the master bedroom.

Sarah started to get up, but Jareth put his hand on her shoulder, holding her down.

"I'll take care of him," he said.

"Don't you dare go anywhere near him!" Sarah practically screamed, grabbing at his sleeve and trying to pull him back. She pulled with such force, it should have brought him falling across the bed, but his balance never even swayed.

"Really, Sarah," he chuckled arrogantly, looking down at her under his lashes, "if I wanted to steal him, I would have done it while you were crying your eyes out like a little baby. –Besides, in this state, I think you'd frighten him more than I ever could. –Now stay!"

At his command, Sarah felt almost bound to the bed. She struggled and squirmed, trying to pull herself up, but she couldn't.

Leaving her sprawled on the bed, kicking and screaming, Jareth stalked across the hallway into the master bed room to find Toby standing up in his crib, screaming his full head off.

Smirking, Jareth planted himself in front of the toddler with his hands on his hips and stared at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Well?" he asked, pretending to be irritated.

"Jare-Jare!" Toby sobbed, holding his arms up as the sobs continued.

Jareth frowned. Toby should have bee appeased just by the sight of him.

"Well, at least you remember me," he sighed, scooping the baby up in his arms.

"Toby!" he exclaimed, feeling the boy's hot skin against his. "You're burning up! –There, there, lad," he cooed. "Jareth's here now. It's alright… I'm going to make you all better."

"_I saw my baby_

_Crying hard as babe could cry._

_What could I do?"_

Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Sarah had finally been able to pull herself up off her bed and she tore across the hallway only to stop in her tracks at the threshold of the master bedroom. She almost couldn't believe her eyes. –Was the Goblin King really dancing with a fussy baby? He didn't look annoyed or even phased by the howls in his ear. In fact, he didn't really look like the Goblin King she knew at all.

Jareth couldn't hide his surprise at seeing Sarah standing there. He had put a spell on her, binding her to the bed until he returned: no mortal should be able to undo it, least of all with her pathetic squirming.

"_Another time,_" he told himself, deciding it best not to concern her.

By this time Toby was starting to calm down and he laid his head contently on Jareth's shoulder.

"That's a good boy," he said softly.

"What's wrong with Toby?" Sarah asked, knowing by the way he was crying that he was in pain.

"He has a fever and a stomach-ache," Jareth answered. "Don't worry: he'll be alright in a moment."

Sarah just sighed and laid her head against the doorpost, not realizing how her face was softening from the rage she had felt only a few minutes ago to a warm smile. For the first time, she saw a side of the Goblin King she could never have dreamed existed.


	3. Chapter Two

[Disclaimer: All rights to _Labyrinth_ belong to LucasFilms and Henson. -This excludes characters of my own invention...Yes, there will be some. Give me time.

Chapter Two:

"One Year Later"

Jareth, King of the Goblins, slouched in his throne, ignoring the ruckus of the goblins as they chased chickens and tormented one another. They never dared to bother him, knowing he would send them to the Bog of Eternal Stench faster than they could blink, but they pushed their limits as far as they could, being the mangy goblins that they were.

That day, like most days and nights in the Underground, Jareth's mind was on Sarah. It had been one year and two months since he had last seen, last touched her, or last heard her voice. It frustrated him that she was all he could think about, that he sometimes awoke, aching for her. It killed him that he actually needed anyone and he couldn't stand being so vulnerable. The goblins bore the worst of it: Jareth's temper (however tempestuous) was hotter than it had ever been in the past and his "generosity" was running thin.

Then, suddenly, a tug! A pull at the very core of his being.

_"Sarah?"_ he thought, sitting ram-rod straight,_ "Sarah, where are you?"_

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Meanwhile, above ground, Sarah was quite happily going about her work. She had taken a weekend job at a little bookshop in town shortly after she turned sixteen and she loved it. On slow weekends, when there inventory was finished, she could spend hours reading. She loved being around books, she loved the smell of them, the feel of them. In a strange way, the musty odor of the aging paper and binding reminded her of the Labyrinth and Ludo's hugs.

That day had been especially slow, due to the heaviest rain of the year, and Sarah was on a ladder just putting away the newest addition to the stock, a third edition copy of MacDonald's "Phantasties". She thought the day couldn't have been more perfect or more peaceful, except, perhaps, if she had been in the Labyrinth.

It seemed so strange to her how much she longed to go back. After all, Ludo, Hoggle, and Sir Didymus came to visit her all the time: she didn't need to go back. She supposed she missed the mystery and the adventure. It wasn't just different from every day life; it was more like she had seen things in her mind, more the way she had imagined life to be when she was a child.

Wasn't that foolish? She was seventeen. She shouldn't still be lost in her fairy tales, but lost she was: especially when _that_ name repeated itself within her subconscious.

Just as Sarah stepped off the ladder, she felt a sudden chill crawl up her spine, followed by amazing weakness. She could barely stand upright, so she gripped the step at her shoulder level, trying to keep her balance, but her vision was going blurry. She kept hearing voices, seeing strange, ghost-like faces bathed in an eerie light. Then, suddenly, an awful pain wracked through her. This pain was so deep, so intense; it seemed to encompass every part of her, causing her to fall over screaming.

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"SARAH!!!!" Jareth cried within his throne room, clutching his heart with his gloved hand. Even from the Underground, he could sense what she was going through. He felt the pain through his own body, as though the force plaguing her had hold of him as well.

"Sarah…" he gasped, when the pain had subsided and he could gather his strength.

It was an hour before the Goblin King had rallied enough strength to carry himself to Sarah's side. When he did, he found her lying in her bed asleep, her brows furrowed, indicating that she was having nightmares, apparitions, bad omens… He knew this would happen, but he never thought this day would come so soon. It should have been years before the separation took its toll.

With a sigh, Jareth sat down beside his beloved conqueror, never taking his gaze from her face. In a fluid motion, he removed his left glove and placed held his bare hand a breath away from her head. He had never touched skin-to-skin before and the intimacy of such a gesture made him hesitate, half-savoring, half-fearing the moment, before he finally laid his palm upon her brow, burying his fingers in her hair as he did.

Sarah's breathing became stronger and the lines across her fore-head began to erase themselves as she seemed to relax and regain her strength. Jareth could feel her energy growing beneath his hand, just by being near him, affirming his suspicions and fears.

"Goblin King," Sarah whispered, looking up at him in shock and distrust. "What are you doing here? –You did this to me, didn't you?" She didn't know why she accused him of that. Evil as he was, something in her gut said that he was innocent.

"I'm here because you won, Sarah," Jareth replied. "You won everything."

"I don't understand," she said, almost timidly.

"That day," he cleared his throat, struggling to maintain his cool, satiric façade, "that moment in the Labyrinth when you turned down your dreams for your brother's sake was a test and you won." Seeing that his explanation was having no effect, Jareth realized he would have to go into all the awful details he would have rather not discussed. "You see, Sarah, there is an ancient law in the Labyrinth that few now living still know. When you sacrificed your dreams, you proved yourself worthy of the prize."

"What prize?" Sarah asked, starting to sit up a little. She didn't like where this was going.

"Your dreams," was the answer. "According to ancient law, the Conqueror of the Labyrinth would become its Queen and be forever bound to it."

"And why didn't I?" Her questions were slowly becoming demands.

"Because I knew you didn't want it!" Jareth snapped, fire gleaming in his eyes. "I knew you didn't want it, so I brought you back home to your mundane little family and your ordinary life. I thought the Labyrinth would realize that. I thought this wouldn't happen."

"What?" Sarah began to be frightened.

"You're bound to the Labyrinth, Sarah," the Goblin King said, his voice almost tender, "and you're bound to me. Because you have not taken your place as queen, the Labyrinth is pulling you back."

"I'm not falling for anymore of your tricks." Sarah declared, glaring at him with all the ire in her being. "You aren't going to frighten me like a little child anymore."

"Come now, Sarah," Jareth scoffed, "I would have thought even _you_ capable of better judgment. –You know my _tricks_, Sarah, and my games. –Does this feel like one of them? –Is that what the voice inside you is saying?"

Sarah didn't answer. He was right: it didn't feel like his usual tactics and, fool though she may be to believe him, he wasn't lying.

"Sarah," he said, his voice coming as close to entreating as he ever would, "if you don't return to the Underground with me, if you don't take your place as my queen, that pain you felt today –that agonizing, piercing pain- will kill you."

"Maybe I'd rather die than spend eternity with you," she retorted, setting her jaw angrily.

"Life or death," the Goblin King stated, pretending to be unaffected by her dramatics, "the choice is yours."

Jareth knew she would choose him. She was so young, young enough to be afraid of death. He also knew that he couldn't bear to lose her, no matter how she plagued his heart. This child before him declared he had no power over her, but the power she unwittingly held over him was greater than even that of the Dark Lords of Old.

"What about Toby?" Her voice came out softly, almost brokenly.

Jareth wanted to sigh: she cut him to the quick when she was helpless like this.

"He'll forget you," he answered honestly. "It will be as though you never lived here."

He could see the tears glistening in her eyes as she tried to fight them back. He would have given the world to take her pain away, but there was nothing he could do.

"Sarah," Jareth sighed. For a moment, the Goblin King was gone and he was only the man who loved her. "It would be less painful for Toby to have no memory of you, than to lose you be left with the grief."

Sarah nodded and passed her fingertips over her eyes to wipe away the tears. She swallowed hard upon the lump in her throat and let out a heavy sigh of surrender.

"Okay…" she finally said, seeming resolved to her fate. "I'll go with you."

Jareth closed his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over him with her words. In that moment, they were transported the Underground. Sarah didn't seem the least bit surprised to find herself standing in the throne room of the Goblin King's Castle, with the Goblin King before her, sitting in his throne.

"Welcome home, my queen."


	4. Chapter Three

[Disclaimer: All rights to _Labyrinth_ belong to LucasFilms and Henson. --Greta is my own creation, therefore mine.

_I seldom do this, but granting that this weekend marks the ten-year anniversary of the death of Diana, Princess of Whales, I would like to dedicate this chapter to her memory. _

Chapter Three

"A Royal Wedding"

It was an early morning in the Underground and Hoggle, Prince of the Bog of Eternal Stench, was abruptly woken from his "royal" slumber by the shrill shouting of Sir Didymus and the barking of Ambrosias. He often wondered why he was so close to Sir Didymus since the nasally-challenged knight errant seemed to always be on his last nerve.

The truth was, none of the trio (Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and Ludo) would have ever become friends if it weren't for Sarah. –The things that little lady had done to his life!

"Your Highness!" cried Didymus, "No, Ambrosias!" the knight scolded his "steed", "The other way! –Your Highness!!!"

"Goblins, Fairies, and Crystals!!!" Hoggle grumbled, pulling himself out of bed and pulling his worn robe on. Muttering more strange curses, he made his way out of his "castle" (he lived in a very large, hallow tree) and stormed through the door to find his one-fox-army sitting atop Ambrosias with his ears pricked up in attention.

"What the devil is it now, Sir Didymus?!?" he demanded.

"Your Highness," Didymus began, bowing at the shoulders, "such wonderful news has come from the Goblin City, sir! Such marvelous news! Such joyous news! Oh, your highness, you would not believe such news!"

"From Goblin City?" Hoggle was more than skeptical. "No _good_ news ever came from that place. Not with His Royal Pain on the throne, at least."

"But, Your Highness," Didymus insisted, "it concerns the Lady Sarah!"

"Sarah?!?" the Bog Prince repeated, his eyes wide. "If he's done anything to her, I'll…"

"You'll what, Higgle?" demanded a jeering voice behind him.

"My lord!" cried Hoggle, turning around abruptly, and bowing low. "What a pleasant surprise!"

"Yes," Jareth replied, stalking up in his jacket and boots, his head resting lazily upon his shoulders and his eyes narrowed with a bored annoyance, "I know you weren't anticipating a call from 'His Royal Pain', anytime soon."

"Oh, Your Majesty," Hoggle stumbled over his tongue, trying to keep himself out of the Bog, "how could anyone ever think that of you? You are the personification of-"

"Stuff it, Huggle!" the Goblin King snapped, rounding on his subjugated prince. "I've come to announce my wedding."

"Wedding, sire?!" the dwarf feigned joy over such news, "These are happy tidings! Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on such a delightful occasion. –Might I ask, sire, who might be your bride?"

"Oh, I think you know her," Jareth replied, leaning confidently against the Tree-Castle. "Someone who helped you to ascend your own throne, my prince."

"Sarah!" cried Hoggle, preparing to charge at the bemused fae. "Why you!!!"

"Really, Haggle," the bridegroom sighed, rolling his eyes, "do you really think I would have planned an arrangement as tedious as this? To be married to that spoilt, selfish little girl who wishes her brother away because he's crying? The whole idea is revolting, but not even I have a choice in the matter."

Hoggle just stared at his master with his fists clenched at his sides, too angry and shocked for words.

"In any case," Jareth continued, pretending not to notice the dwarf's face change from bright red to dark purple in rage, "I came here to inform you that, if you ever go anywhere near her, you will find yourself at the bottom of the Bog of Eternal Stench before you can finish blinking. –Is that clear?"

"You-you-…YOU!!!!" Hoggle fumed, looking almost as though his head would explode. "You don't deserve her!"

"Funny…" the King chuckled, "I really couldn't care less. –Just mind that you stay far away."

Before another word was spoken, Jareth turned and walked away, disappearing from sight.

Once again alone within his own castle, the Goblin King conjured a crystal and watched the Prince of the Bog, his one-fox-army, and the giant mass of fur (who seemed to have awoken after Jareth left) gather a few things together and head across the bridge. Smirking, he willed the crystal to show him Sarah, sleeping quietly in her chamber.

"Friends are coming to you, Sarah," he said softly, "perhaps they will make you smile."

The morning had almost faded into afternoon when Sarah awoke. For a long moment, she just lay upon the softy linen, staring at the domed canopy of her bed, slowly processing were she was and why she was there. At last, as she began to recall the previous evening and remember that she would never see Toby or her parents again, the pain felt almost unbearable. It was as a great boulder had fallen atop of her, crushing it under its massive weight, and, still, she could not cry.

Two years ago, she would have sobbed for hours (even days) on end and screamed to that heavens that "it wasn't fair", but she had learnt better than that with time. Nothing was fair and nothing ever would be fair. If she stayed, she would have died and left her family and friends anyway. At least this way, none of them would feel the pain of losing her.

She couldn't bear the thought of what it would have done to her father, the thought of him having to bury his daughter next to his late wife. And Toby? Toby was too young to have to go through that kind of grief. Sarah was his age when her mother died; everyone thought she was too young to understand, too young to remember, but every detail had been burned forever in her mind. She wouldn't leave Toby with that.

Glancing out her window to see that it was now midday, Sarah's thoughts returned to her future husband. Jareth told her they could waste little time, due to her own fragile and precarious condition, and scheduled the wedding for that night. She personally would have preferred a week to adjust to the situation, but she wasn't in a position to argue or disagree with his logic.

Part of her was relieved that he hadn't seemed to expect her participation in the arrangements, though she was slightly worried about what his insane mind was concocting. –No doubt the candle sticks would be made of rat skulls, or something.

The whole situation still seemed so surreal to her: the thought of marrying Jareth, King of the Goblins, seemed almost preposterous. She was still just seventeen, how could she be even remotely happy with him? He was so arrogant, so selfish, so cruel…

Yet, even as she thought that, she couldn't expel the memory of the night he came to her when she was weeping and how his touch had felt like something very akin to tenderness, nor the tinge of compassion in his sky-blue eyes when he spoke to her the previous night.

Never before had they looked so soft or so deep: like twin-tide pools in the sand after the rain. It seemed almost as if the powerful Goblin King might shed a tear.

"Sarah!" hissed a familiar voice outside her door, breaking her train of thoughts.

Sarah almost blushed, realizing where her mind had been wandering and somehow feeling as though her visitor knew what she had been thinking about.

"Sarah!" the voice called again, impatiently.

"Hoggle!" Sarah gasped, throwing off the covers. Quick as a wink, she hopped out of bed and pulled the purple, damask robe over her linen nightdress as she ran to open the door.

She smiled instantly upon the sight of Hoggle and Sir Didymus standing just outside the threshold, the light on her face seeming to light the room.

"Hoggle! Sir Didymus!" she squealed, throwing her arms around each of them in turn. "I've never been so glad to see you! –But, where's Ludo?"

"Dearest Lady Sarah," Didymus replied, "mine brother-in-arms was too large to pass through the palace unnoticed by the guards, so, in his clever cunning, he has hidden himself, along with Ambrosias, in the garden."

"Well, why are we standing around here?" Sarah demanded, laughing and pulling a pair of slippers onto her bare feet. "Let's go!"

With that, she grabbed Hoggle by the hand, Didymus by the paw, and ran at full speed through the hallways and down the staircases until her face was buried in soft, copper fur.

"Sawah," the gentle monster sighed happily, hugging her.

"Come on, Sarah," said Hoggle's voice by her side, "we don't have much time: we're getting you out of here. –That Jareth… He can just-"

"Hoggle," Sarah said slowly, pulling away from Ludo and turning to face the dwarf, "I chose to marry him."

"But-?!?" the dwarf-prince and the fox-knight exclaimed in unison, staring at her wide-eyed in disbelief.

"My Lady Sarah," continued Didymus, finding his tongue before his companion, "why?"

"And what do we have here?" inquired an amused voice from the doorway of the castle.

The four of them whipped around to see the Goblin King leaning against the door post, his mouth curled in his usual, cocky, slightly sinister, smirk, like a cat about to pounce upon its prey.

"Nothing!" Hoggle was quick to reply.

"Nothing?" repeated Jareth, walking towards them. "Nothing! Tra-la-la?!?"

"My friends have come to visit me." Sarah told him haughtily, her fiery eyes begging for an argument, an opportunity to prove to the world that she despised him.

"Your treacherous liaisons, madam," he rejoined, showing that he was game for anything she threw his way, "are in direct defiance of my authority, not to mention they're trespassing."

"Well, as queen," she retorted, putting her hands on her hips, "I absolve them of treachery and declare that the doors of this castle shall always be open to them."

"Ah, my dear," Jareth cooed, realizing that his knight was in a position to take her queen, "you aren't queen yet and, even when you are, you shall be powerless to decree anything without my direct consent."

Sarah opened her mouth to respond with some incontestable argument, but realized she had none and promptly closed it again.

Her future-husband watched this gesture with no small measure of satisfaction: he had won the dispute and had succeeded in making her so frustrated she forgot, for a moment, the pain she felt over the separation. –He never could explain why he loved to watch her when she was angry.

"Nonetheless," he began, breaking the tense silence that had fallen, "due to the short-notice, most of the members of the Fae Court have declined actual attendance at our wedding, and only a few have ambassadors close enough to the Goblin Kingdom to represent them. This puts me (or, rather, _us_), in a predicament: you see, darling, to have a ceremony witnessed by a few nobles and ambassadors is an insult and it threatens our own position in more ways than one. However, if there happened to be a prince and the senior members of his court among them, the situation would change considerably."

At this, Jareth looked directly at Hoggle.

"What?" Sarah sulked, "Do you want me to kiss him and turn him into a prince?"

"Actually, dearest," Jareth answered, "you've already done that. –Sarah, may I present: His Royal Highness, Hoggle: Prince of the Bog of Eternal Stench."

"Why of the rotten things!" Sarah shrieked, looking almost as though she would pounce upon the Goblin King.

"Count your blessings, Sarah," he chided. "I didn't throw him_ in_ the Bog. –Higgle! You and your 'court' had better be in attendance, or I will throw you in the Bog." Jareth began to stride off, then paused a moment, "And do try to look presentable."

With that, he went back into the castle, rejoicing within himself. Sarah was smiling.

Less than eight hours later, Sarah stood next to Jareth before some sort of priest or judge, pledging herself to him for all eternity. It seemed so strange to her that there was no "until death do you part"; so strange to think that she would never grow old and die.

She would never have admitted it with a gun pressed to her head, but it was almost reassuring to feel Jareth's hand beneath hers, supporting her, guiding her through all the motions and the words. He seemed uncharacteristically patient.

Jareth simply stood silently, save for when declaring his vows and aiding Sarah through the ceremony. A part of him couldn't believe he was standing there with her even as the warmth of her hand penetrated his glove, and warmed the flesh of his hand. He couldn't look at her too long without risking his resilience or identity in the eyes of his peers and subjects.

At long last, the ceremony was over and the Goblin King pressed a dry kiss upon his Queen's lips, for the sake of appearance. Sarah had agreed to it prior to the service, when he explained the situation to her, much more willingly than he anticipated.

Jareth inwardly grinned just thinking about it. Did she realize what else she must do for appearance's sake?

It seemed to Sarah that there were too many Fae Nobles at the ceremony, for she had to greet them all and thank them for their blessings. She didn't understand why Jareth was so insulted by the handful that couldn't come. –She half-wished the rest of them had a similar inclination.

After a few hours, she finally felt her new husband come up behind her and whisper that it was time for her to retire. For the first time in her marriage, Sarah gladly submitted, eager to escape the sea of faces and have some time to collect her thoughts.

Greta, Sarah's new ladies' maid, escorted her to the Royal Bedroom, and helped her to change from her wedding dress into a nightdress and comb out her hair. Sarah tried to make polite conversation with the girl, knowing she should feel grateful to find another human in the Underground, but she was too tired and too distracted to keep her mind on whatever they were talking about it. Greta seemed to understand; after all, it was her mistress' wedding night.

After a few minutes, Greta curtsied and left Sarah alone in the massive room with her own thoughts for company.

She couldn't deny the chamber was breathtakingly beautiful, decorated in deep purple trimmed with rich emerald and brilliant black against the mahogany furniture. The peaked ceiling made the room feel two stories high. In front of the stone fireplace, an Egyptian-style fainting couch, made of exquisitely carved mahogany and dressed with a velvet cushion, sat, just aligned with the edge of a black fur rug. At the top of the wall, Sarah saw hooks and rods for hanging tapestries in the cold winter months and, she imagined, more rugs would be brought in when the frost came.

The bed was much like the one in her first room at the castle, only larger and much more imposing. The canopy was made of purple and damask which gather above the bed in a tent-like dome, and flowed down into eight curtains that were held back with ties at the four posters. She felt her cheeks grow warm as she thought of Jareth sleeping in that bed, knowing that she would eventually share it with him.

"How do find the room?" asked her husband's voice behind her, causing her to whirl around to see him standing with his arms folded and his head tilted to the side casually. He looked, guileless. There wasn't a single scheme, a single trick, or even a cocky smirk to be found. –He must be up to something.

"Don't you knock?" Sarah asked, pretending to be composed.

"Now, how would it look for a husband to knock before entering his own room when his wife was waiting for him inside…?" Jareth questioned, walking toward her until her stood a foot away from her and leaning in so that his face was inches from her before adding: "On their wedding night?"

Sarah's stomach did somersaults within her; she couldn't tell whether her face was turning red from embarrassment or white from rage, but some powerful emotion had worked its way up, threatening to explode, only to catch in her throat and remain there.

Unable to look in his eyes, or feel him so terribly close, she turned away and crossed her arms.

"If you think for one minute-" she began, trying to sound as powerful and angry as she could.

"Oh come, Sarah…"he groaned, striding past her to the fire place, "Do you really think I would force myself upon you, little girl?"

He was grateful she couldn't see his face, but only hear his taunting voice. He couldn't deny that he wanted her and her rejection cut him to the quick, but the fear she was struggling to hide hurt far deeper than anything else.

"Well, I-I-" Sarah stammered, trying to think of a response. She hated it when he had the upper hand like this.

"Please," Jareth sighed, turning to face, "spare me. –Now, just, climb into bed and draw the curtains. I'm going to change."

Sarah did as she was told, her sudden hunger for an argument dissolving into a desire for peace and quiet between the two of them for a change. She didn't want to think about what the next eternity with him would be like. After a few minutes, one of the curtains was pulled back and she saw a shadow framed by firelight, then felt him crawl under the covers with her. There was something about the way he smelt: he smelt like rain and, strangely enough, magic. She thought it was the most wonderful scent, but she wouldn't let him know in a million years.

Conscious of how close he was, Sarah scooted to the edge of the bed, on the pretense of giving him more room and she thought she heard something like a sigh, but it may have been the wind.

"Goodnight, little Sarah," she heard him say softly in the darkness.

"Goodnight," Sarah replied.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's notes:

The idea to make "Hoggle" Prince of the Bog of Eternal Stench came from a fanfic called "For Keeps". --I thought the idea seemed to make sense and really couldn't contrive any other idea of what "Jareth" might have done to him for helping "Sarah".

It is mistakenly believed that David Bowie has one brown eye and one blue eye; therefore, "Jareth's" eyes are the same. In fact, however, David Bowie has two blue eyes: the pupil in his left eye is just abnormally dilated, giving it a darker appearance. (Believe me, I spent ages looking at pictures. This fact is also mentioned on 


	5. Chapter Four

_Hey, I've been meaning to thank you all for reading and reviewing, but life has been hectic and most of my reviews have been asking for more, so I've been attempting to grant your wishes. (What's said is said.) --Anyway, it's really nice to get feedback after being so long without it, so :THANK YOU!!!! _

[Disclaimer: We all know who owns the rights to _Labyrinth_. _Greta_ is my creation.

Chapter Four

"Newlyweds"

Sarah awoke to find Jareth lying beside her, staring up at the canopy, but not seeming to be looking at anything. Their tent of a bed was still dim because of the thick curtains, but enough sunlight penetrated to make his features distinguishable, though she hoped it was dark enough to hide the blush staining her cheeks as she began to think upon the fact that she was sharing a bed with a man.

Her intention had been to sleep in as late as possible so that he would be gone by the time she awoke, but, though it seemed he'd been awake for a long time, he showed no signs of leaving the bed.

Jareth was drawn from his reverie as he felt her eyes upon him and heard the change in her breathing pattern. He turned his head and saw her lying on her side, facing him. Even in the dim light, her eyes looked wide as saucers and he was willing to bet his kingdom that she was blushing.

"Good morning, Sarah," he said, his accent stoic and arrogant as usual.

"Good morning," she replied softly.

"I trust you slept well," Jareth remarked, propping his head up on his hand so that he was facing her. His tone was a touch more sultry than wont and his eyes twinkled mischievously, taking delight in the way he was unsettling her.

Sarah only shrugged. She wanted to argue, she wanted to scream and yell, but a part of her was just too grown up to waste her time and another was worried that she would only betray herself if she spoke.

"Sarah…" the Goblin King's voice was drawn out, half-threatening, half-reasoning in his self-assured way, "when the maid brings in our breakfast, it is imperative that we _appear_ in all accounts to be quite…married."

"Do you want me to take off my nightgown?" Sarah sounded like she didn't know whether to be shocked, disgusted, or just kill him then and there.

Jareth grinned within himself at such a novel idea and was more than a little tempted to say yes, but he thought better of it. –However enticing the thought, it was unnecessary and he wouldn't ask more than she could give in that area of their marriage.

"Perhaps another time," he chuckled, maintaining his regal aura, "but for now I ask only that you feign _some_ affection for your husband. –Holding my hand while she's present will suffice, I think."

Sarah set her jaw firmly and nodded. Her husband noted that it seemed terribly uncharacteristic of her to be so complacent. –Perhaps she had grown up? –Perhaps she just needed to find her bearings in this new life?

The two of them said nothing, but waited until they heard Greta opening the door and Jareth motioned for Sarah to move closer to him. Before she could protest, he put his arm around her and caused her head to rest upon his shoulder.

She only stayed there until Greta had finished drawing back the curtains, but it seemed like an eternity to her. A part of her wanted to pummel his chest with her fists, punishing him for this life he had brought her to, yet another was struggling to fight the feeling of warmth in her breast as she breathed in his scent and felt the skin along his collar against her brow.

Later in the morning, Sarah was sitting at her vanity, inspecting her reflection in the mirror. Greta had excused herself from the room about fifteen minutes ago and she was alone with her husband.

"Sarah?" his voice sounded almost agitated.

She turned on her vanity stool to look at him.

"You do understand that we cannot always live in this manner?" Jareth questioned frowning, his eyes clouded.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, chuckling to hide her embarrassment. She had a pretty good idea what he was referring to.

"We must have an heir," he stated quickly.

Sarah's face went pale and he silently cursed himself as he watched, despite his own annoyance. Surely she could understand her duties to her kingdom and to him!

"Oh, come, Sarah," he groaned, "don't be a child. –I'm not going to force myself upon you! I've no interest in taking screaming girls. –This is how it will be between us, my dear _wife_, and I will be sure to lay it out in terms you can understand: We will share this room and bed (there will be no negotiations to that point) and as far as the household, the kingdom and every other realm in the Underground is concerned, we will appear married in every sense." Jareth took a deep breath before continuing, "I know you think I am insensitive to your youth, your innocence, but, believe me, Sarah, I am being far more generous than you imagine. Another man would have taken you based upon his husbandly rights, whether you were willing or not. –I hope you can understand that it is imperative that you resign yourself to the simple fact that you are my wife."

"Are you finished?" she asked coolly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Almost," Jareth answered with equal tone, pretending to be unaffected. "If some calamity befalls the Goblin Kingdom and we are faced with war or impending conflict, I will no longer be in a position to be patient with you, darling. –For the safety and security of our kingdom, we must have an heir before entering crises."

"I understand," Sarah said simply.

All too eager to leave this dreadful scene, Jareth nodded and strode out of the room.


	6. Chapter Five

[Disclaimer: You know the drill... Lisa, Greta, and the Sheriff are mine..

Chapter Five

"Cruel Eyes"

It surprised Sarah when her two-month anniversary came around. The past seven weeks had flown by and been more overwhelming than she had anticipated. After the Bridal Week (otherwise called a honeymoon), she and Jareth departed on a Royal Tour through the Goblin Kingdom and a few neighboring realms. She was certain she had seen every inch of her new domain and met every person and creature within it.

Every day had been an endless ceremony of pomp and sport, as well as some royal duties in issuing justice and calling the sheriffs representing the monarchy at the further corners of the realm into account for their actions over that past few years. There was one sheriff who had petitioned the crown for money to aide in the rebuilding of several homes that had been destroyed by fire a year or so ago and when the Goblin King arrived with his bride on his arm, he was far from pleased to see that the funds had been used toward the construction of the sheriff's own manor.

It took all Sarah's guile to keep from trembling as she watched her husband's rage and swift punishment of the sheriff. When the hapless wretch had sent in chains to the oubliette, Jareth turned to see her pale face and seemed to be placated. A softness deep within his black pupils offset the fire in the midst of his eyes and the chiseled grimace upon his face as he held his arm out, waiting for her to rest her own upon it. When she did, it felt rigid and straight, but the tight muscles seemed to soften after a few moments.

Now, home at last, Sarah was faced with the daunting task of being a Queen Consort. She learned from her husband that, among her political and diplomatic obligations, she was expected to be the primary administrator of the royal household and its expenses. She was very grateful for Liza, the housekeeper who was in charge of the minute details, but it was Sarah who Liza reported to directly.

She welcomed the work as a distraction from her frustrations over her marriage and her separation from her family, and dove into it head first. Her days were spent learning Fae customs, the history of the Underground, current events, etiquette… Anything she could find a book about or someone to teach her.

Deep within her marrow, Sarah couldn't deny that this was the life she had always dreamed of, the life she had wanted. She wanted a life of significance, to rule a kingdom of strange creatures with a king who loved and cherished her.

She always laughed at herself when she recalled her fantasies about love. "_That is one thing I will never have,"_ she told herself.

For the first few weeks, things seemed to go smoothly: by day Sarah attended to her duties, Jareth to his and at night they would dine in a small sitting room (the grand dining hall was reserved for special occasions) before retiring to their room. They seldom saw each other during the day and Sarah had no intention of breaking routine. As time went by, however, Sarah began to feel her stamina wear down a little each day. She began each morning feeling strong and refreshed, but by lunch she was in need of a good nap and she was always a little achy by the time she crawled into bed beside Jareth.

At first, she thought it was simply fatigue from her duties, but instead of becoming accustomed to it, it seemed she was growing steadily worse. Still, what could it possibly? Maybe she just needed more time? –So, she said nothing about it to anyone, least of all Jareth.

The Goblin King had closely observed his wife as she busied herself in the affairs of queens. He could not hold back a smile of satisfaction as he watched her learn all that she could of the world in which she now lived and how she stepped up to the task as he always knew she would.

Secretly, he looked forward to those few moments when they were together. At first, he had hoped that she would turn to him with her questions regarding laws and politics in the Underground, after all he was King of the Goblin Kingdom and her husband, but it soon became clear that he was the very last person she would come to.

First it depressed him, then it annoyed him, then angered him. He soon took to kicking goblins and slamming doors, venting his frustrations in channels that kept him from throttling his wife. It was a fortnight before he had finally contrived a means in which to elicit Sarah's confidence.

"Sarah?" Jareth said one night over dinner.

"Yes?" Sarah replied, taking a sip of her wine.

"What do you know of our relations with the other realms?" he inquired, spearing his chicken with his fork.

"Not much," she answered honestly, shrugging some, "I know your father went to war against one of them about five millennia ago, but the history books are very vague."

"They aren't written in Common," Jareth was quick to explain, "You understand what's written on the page because of the Underground, but, I'm afraid, it translates a little too literally and a good bit is lost in translation."

"Then how can I learn?" Sarah asked, a little disheartened at the thought of yet another subject with which she must educate herself.

"Don't worry yourself about it, my dear queen," he said casually, "with time you will understand it perfectly."

"What do you mean?" she questioned, her curiosity piqued.

"You're Queen of the Goblin Kingdom and Consort of the Labyrinth," Jareth answered, as though it were a fact she should have known by now, "with time the Underground will make you a Fae."

"Like you?"

Jareth nodded.

"Of course," he continued, realizing that this was a topic in which she was in desperate need of clarification, "the transformation should have occurred instantly upon our wedding, but since you're so…"

"I understand." Sarah interjected, seeing his brow arch and his eyes twinkle with mirth.

Later that night, after Greta had left her clad in a nightdress and a thin robe, Sarah sat on the fur rug before the fireplace, staring at the flames with her green eyes. She almost didn't hear her husband enter the room, so lost she was within her thoughts.

For a long moment, Jareth stood watching her, wondering what could be on her mind and how he should behave tonight. –Should he give her someone to fight with, or should he just let her be?

Their usual nocturnal had consisted of Sarah having the room to herself to undress in privacy, then Jareth would come in and she would climb into bed and close the curtains while he changed. Tonight, however, the Goblin King felt it was past time that changed slightly.

Paying little regard to her presence, he took off his waistcoat and shirt, tossing both to a far corner of the room for the maid to get in the morning. The first week of their marriage, Sarah had berated him for leaving clothing all over the place for someone else to have to pick up, so he pacified her by throwing it all in a corner at the end of the day.

The sound of fabric hitting the stone wall broke Sarah out of her reverie. She whipped around and gasped at the sight her husband standing in the middle of the room, shirtless and unabashed. Her thoughts went back to their discussion at dinner and she suddenly grew apprehensive.

"Jareth?" she said slowly, trying to disguise the catch in her voice.

"Ah, I do like your tone," he sighed, knowing that her anger and embarrassment were bubbling up within her. "It's rather akin to a smoldering passion, don't you think?"

"I thought you weren't going to pressure me," Sarah retorted, hoping to conceal her own vulnerability.

"I said I wouldn't force you," he returned, grinning devilishly as he sat down at the foot of the bed to remove his boots. "I never once said I wouldn't pressure you. –Though, I think a man ought to be able to undress in his own room without being accused to trying to seduce his wife."

At this, Jareth paused as he removed his second boot, realizing the irony in his words.

"In any case," he continued, putting the boots aside and standing, "you had better turn your innocent eyes away, lest you see something that might tempt you.

Sarah turned away, her cheeks burning hot as her own modesty permeated her. She had grown used to him changing while she was safe within the confines of their bed, but so openly like this, with no curtain or screen between them, she couldn't help but think about what her father and Karen would say.

"You can turn back now," said Jareth.

Warily, she turned to see him standing just beside the fainting-couch, wearing his long black dressing gown, looking down at her with something that looked almost like contentment.

"Come," he instructed, stretching out his hand to help her up.

She took it and was more than surprised when he didn't let go until they had climbed into bed.

"Goodnight, little Sarah," Jareth whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her from her face, knowing she had fallen fast asleep the moment she closed her cruel eyes.


	7. Chapter Six

[Disclaimer: All rights to _Labyrinth_ belong to LucasFilms and Henson. ---Characters of my own invention are mine.

_Dedicated to the memory of Luciano Pavarotti. --Your voice will always echo in our hearts. _

Chapter Six

"Without Your Heartbeat"

Late in the night, Jareth was awakened by a strange sound. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open narrowly in the darkness as his foggy mind tried to register what the sound was. It grew stronger, more distinct, and it was coming from beside him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw the white linen of Sarah's nightgown trembling, he realized she was weeping.

"Sarah?" his voice was worried as he rolled her over so that she was looking up at him. "Sarah, what's the matter?"

His wife couldn't answer; she tears became sobs instantly, so he took her in his arms and held her close to him. Sighing, he understood all to well what grieved her: in three months since coming to the Underground, she hadn't shed a single tear for the life she had lost. Now, all the pent up grief had given way within her.

"There, there…" he soothed, his voice soft and lilting, "Just cry, darling. –It's alright… Hush…"

Jareth couldn't help but feel a wave of warmth pass over him as he felt her arms wrap around his torso, clinging to him desperately as her wails came out in torrents. He had always dreamt of her arms and, despite the situation, he found they were as sweet as he had fantasized.

Sarah just kept sobbing, letting it all pour out from her, thinking the ache would never go away. She clung to Jareth to keep a hold of herself as her cries tore themselves from her breast, threatening to shatter her. She yearned for her family, even Karen. She would have given anything to be able to go back to them, but that was completely impossible now. They didn't remember her. –Would she ever forget them?

The next morning, she awoke far later than her usual hour for rising, to find herself still wrapped in Jareth's arms. Moving her head carefully so that she wouldn't disturb him, she looked up and saw that he was still fast asleep, with his usually cocky smirk relaxed into a soft line.

"Jareth," she whispered softly, knowing that they both had to get up. "Jareth!"

Slowly, he began to stir, his eye lids opening with blinks that grew further apart progressively.

"What is it?" he asked tiredly.

"We've slept in." Sarah answered, "We need to get up."

"You get up, then," he grumbled, shutting his eyes stubbornly, "I'm going to sleep some more."

"Then let go of me," she quipped, causing his eyes to open once more.

He looked down at her, wrapped in his arms, half laying upon his breast and smirked for a moment, then quickly frowned in displeasure. Letting go of her took a lot more strength than he let on. After all, who knew how long he would have to wait before he held her again? The moment she pulled away from his embrace and her warmth was replaced by a breath of cool air, he had to fight the desire to grab her and pull her back into his arms so palpable was the ache.

As the day wore on, Jareth found it difficult to focus upon his duties; all he could think about were his wife and his marriage. It took a great deal of courage to admit that he loved Sarah with his whole heart, even if it was only to himself. This wasn't how he had envisioned their lives together: seldom speaking to one another and only arguing when they did. He loved their small battles of will, but he had always thought they would be balanced out by moments of pure love, like the moment when they danced at the ball he conjured.

He could still remember it: there she was looking up at him in mystified adoration, slowly allowing herself to be loved by him, while he stared down at her with eyes that confessed what his mouth could not, that he loved her, that she was his entire world.

Why couldn't it be like that again?

"Majesty!" squawked a voice from the open door of Jareth's study, breaking the king from his reverie.

"What is it?" he demanded gruffly, annoyed at the interruption.

"Letters have arrived for you, my lord," said the goblin, "one from the High Council and one from the Mountain King."

Grunting in irritation, Jareth motioned for the goblin to enter and the creature obeyed, approaching to place the letter in his master's hand before bowing and back from the room.

Frowning darkly, the Goblin King broke the seal and read:

_Lord Jareth, King of the Goblin Kingdom and Master of the Labyrinth,_

_You are hereby summoned to by the High Council unto the Faery Court. The Court will convene upon the next full moon. _

After reading the rather cryptic message, Jareth sat back in his chair, folding his gloved hands thoughtfully. He had been expecting this for some time now; there had been too many rumors on the wind about dark creatures and plundered villages throughout the Underground. It had been in the Goblin Kingdom's interest to remain neutral, especially so soon after his wedding. His army was in shambles, they hadn't been to war in over a millennia. How could he keep his realm secure?

Heaving out a sigh, he sat up and opened the Mountain King's letter.

_Noble Majesty, _

_We write begging your support before the High Council. Our lands are in ruin because of this dark force threatening the security of all realms within the Underground. _

_Your father was once our greatest ally: we trust you will be no less. _

_Megrim, _

As he finished the letter, Jareth felt a terrible pain tear its way through his soul and he dropped the letter to his desk, gripping the arms of his gilded chair for support.

"Sarah…" he breathed, using every last ounce of strength to will himself to her side.

Jareth found her lying in their bed on her side, her skin pale and her breathing shallow and weakened. Sighing in a mixture of relief and worry, he removed his gloves and lay down behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

"I thought this would stop," Sarah whispered softly.

"So did I," he replied, his voice betraying his own helplessness.

"Does it hurt you?" she asked timidly.

"Yes," he answered honestly, "but not as deeply as it hurts a mortal."

Sarah tried to roll over in his arms so that she could face him, but he held her fast.

"Just rest, love," he said, disguising the concern in his voice.

Jareth wouldn't let her turn over because he couldn't let her see his eyes or the black frown upon his face. –It shouldn't hurt either of them to be separated any more and, even if it did, it shouldn't hurt her this terribly, she should be getting stronger with each day as the Underground transformed her into a Fae, but instead she seemed to be getting weaker.

Something was terribly wrong.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"The Ancient"

Jareth didn't let Sarah out of his arms for hours, until she had recovered some semblance of her usual strength, even then he remained by her side like a sentinel.

Just after twilight, Greta entered with supper for both of them, knowing better than to ask either of them what happened that afternoon and serving them in near silence. She had served in the castle for many years and knew her master's moods well enough to judge when to keep to her own business and she had learned enough from her mistress to tell when the lady would rather not talk.

The Goblin King never touched his own plate, but watched very carefully to be sure his Queen ate well. She normally had a hearty appetite, but tonight she seemed to pick at her food more than anything and she looked exhausted, just trying to get half of it down. Jareth merely frowned and stared off into the fireplace.

When Sarah finished eating, Greta cleared away the remains of the meal and carried them to the door where a goblin was waiting to take them to the kitchen.

"Shall I help you into your nightdress, Your Majesty?" Greta inquired, returning from the door.

"Yes, please." Sarah replied, politely.

The queen turned to her husband. Did he now intend remain in the room while _she _undressed?

Jareth read the look on her face perfectly and, in response, reclined against the arm of the fainting-couch with his arms crossed over his chest and a self-assured grin on his face.

"Jareth…" Sarah warned, sending him an icy glare.

"Oh, very well…" he sighed, standing and walking to the fireplace.

"Jareth, out!" she ordered, pointing toward the door.

The Goblin King whipped around and glowered at her as though he would shoot fiery daggers from his eyes in her direction.

"Greta," he said thickly, "leave us. –Now!"

"Yes, Sire," the maid piped, bobbing a quick curtsy before scurrying out of the room.

Sarah stared at the door as it closed and listened to the sound echo through the room, feeling hopelessly deserted and terrified of the Fae before her. She realized now that she had never before seen him when he was truly angry, she only thought she had. It took all of her nerve to stand beneath his burning gaze as he slowly approached her until his face was only inches from her.

"Never," he hissed, "_never_ speak so to me in the presence of others. Do you understand?"

She remained silent and looked straight ahead, even as his eyes bored into hers, looking for an answer. Dissatisfied with her lack of response, he continued:

"Whatever the private state of our marriage may be, it is imperative that we appear united in every situation, no matter how trivial it is." He was almost fuming and Sarah could feel her knees trembling slightly, but she maintained her composure, never once breaking her stare.

"Sarah," Jareth's voice came close to a groan, "there are foreign powers, of which you are not yet aware, that seek to destroy us. If they suspect our union to be anything less than harmonious, they will tear us apart and our world is not the only one that will suffer because of it."

Sarah inhaled deeply and swallowed hard, steeling her nerves.

"I understand," she said, forcing her voice. "I'd like to go to bed now, Your Majesty."

Jareth let out a heavy breath that sounded very akin to a sigh as the storm in his eyes seemed to subside to his usual, regal gleam.

"Greta won't dare come back tonight," he noted. "Turn around: I'll undo your stays."

"No." Sarah protested, stepping back from him, "I'll work it out."

"Don't defy me, Sarah," he snorted, taking her shoulders and turning her around.

Before Sarah had time to voice her objections, he had untied the knots and pulled the laces loose, then he turned and walked over to the fireplace, keeping his back turned until she had changed into her nightdress and he heard her slip into their bed.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, and turned to see that her brows were furrowed. Sarah's next breath was even more pronounced, like a suppressed cry.

Tearing his gloves off, Jareth strode across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching his bare hand out to place it on her face. She recoiled instantly.

"I am being generous, Sarah," the Goblin King said coldly, disguising his pain with his arrogance. "I can be cruel."

"You never change, do you?" Sarah asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I've been around for a few centuries, darling," he replied brusquely. "You won't even be eighteen for another six months."

"I'm not a child!" she snapped.

"Then quit acting like one!" he quipped. "You accuse me of pride, yet you won't even accept my aid when you're in pain."

"At least I have a heart!" Sarah screamed, "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? –It's always about getting what you want."

"You really think you and I are so different?" Jareth questioned, "All you cared about was getting what you want."

They both knew exactly where this conversation had gone. It wasn't about now, it wasn't about their marriage; it was about those thirteen hours two years ago.

"What was I supposed to do?" she demanded, "Let you turn my brother into a Goblin? –Fear you? Do as you say?"

"Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl." he snapped.

"Oh, it hurts like hell…" Sarah agreed with irony dripping from her tongue.

"You still exhaust me," he sighed; staring at her in a gaze that was half-passionate, half-a-glare even as he knew she couldn't see how he truly loved her.

"You still have no power over me," she replied, looking him straight in the eye, knowing the pain she brought him with those words. Those words had brought his defeat.

"Sorry, little girl," he said, "I'm not disappearing this time."

"Fine," she said simply, rolling over on her side and turning her back to him.

Jareth frowned darkly and stood to walk back to the hearth. He poured himself a glass of mulled wine from the decanter atop the mantelpiece and nursed it thoughtfully. Whatever made him believe that Sarah Williams would love him in a million years?

He wasn't accustomed to things not being the way he wanted them and he found it that much more frustrating when it came to his heart over his whims. This was never what he wanted. He wanted her to want him and she didn't, no matter what he did to please her. Nothing had changed in two years.

A moan echoed from the bed, breaking him from his reverie long enough to draw his gaze toward the sleeping form of his wife. Another moan, this one sharper told him the pain was increasing and he began to feel a shadow of it echo in his own being, rendering it impossible for him to ignore the sounds of her suffering.

He passed his gloved hand over his face, sighing in exasperation as he felt his pain steadily intensify and knew hers more than doubled his.

Sarah was dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing…

…_Until the king has a queen  
__When new age is begun  
__When a new world is seen  
__Until two become one…_

That was the spell, the prophesy, that had bound Sarah to the Labyrinth and to him. Jareth had taken her away from her home and family for nothing because, as long as their hearts were separated, the Labyrinth would pull until the weakest one broke.

Another whimper from the bed brought Jareth instantly to her side. Removing his gloves, he lied down alongside her and took her into his arms.

"You're not leaving me again, Sarah," he whispered against her hair, "I forbid it and don't you dare defy me."


	9. Chapter Eight

_Hey! --Sorry it's been so long. I've had a crazy weekend and will be pretty busy through out the rest of the week, so it'll probably be awhile before I can update._

Thanks a ton for the reviews! I'm delighted that so many people like this story and I hope I can live up to your expectations. 

_-S. Cartwright_

[Disclaimer: All rights to _Labyrinth_ belong to LucasFilms LTD and Henson. --The really cool new plot twist and is completely mine, though. Please don't steal.

Chapter Eight  
"Stonehenge"

Jareth slept little that night, but watched over Sarah almost out of fear that if he closed his eyes she would slip away from him. He was not accustomed to being powerless in any situation and it drove him mad knowing how truly helpless he was in that moment. He almost grimaced when he remembered what happened three years before, when he thought he had stacked the cards so perfectly in his favor. Once again, they played against him one by one.

When he felt Sarah begin to stir within his arms, he quickly released her and retreated to the far side of the bed, in the hopes of avoiding yet another row. The last thing he needed was to have her spend all her strength in arguing.

Sarah slowly opened her eyes and looked up into his face, but said nothing. Her anger over the previous night had yet to subside. They had been at many battles of wits since they met, but never had they resorted to deliberate personal attacks and she had found that the latter left a bitter aftertaste.

"Sarah," Jareth began, hiding his caution behind a mask of cold pre-eminence "we must talk."

The High Council met only bicentennially Aboveground in place called Stonehenge, which had stood longer than any other place on Aboveground, and many places Underground. Sarah had always heard Celtic myths surrounding this marvel, but had never truly realized its significance.

Jareth told her that, in ancient times, when the Fae (or Sidhe as the Celts called them) a walked the Earth freely, they governed the tribes from that place which, in those days, was called the Citadel, or Round Table. In those days, the Fifteen Lords were united in the same cause and no one of them was greater than the others, thus enabling them to dominate both worlds.

Then, millennia before Jareth's own father was born, there was one lord who began to deal with the mortals, offering them immortality in exchange for their allegiance to him before the others. When the other fourteen discovered his treachery, they banished him to live forever in limbo, caught forever between the Underground and the Aboveground and his name was forever stricken from history, to be forgotten by all.

After the fifteenth lord's betrayal, the fourteen became distrustful of one another and fell into constant rivalry and accusations until at last they became divided into two groups of seven Dark Lords and seven Light Lords and these lords with their combined armies met on the very grounds of the Citadel to battle for control of the world. The war lasted for nearly two centuries until all fourteen lords were weak and divided. Not one of them had the power to rule the world and they were driven back to the Underground.

"Would you have been a Light Lord or a Dark Lord?" Sarah asked him.

"I would have been whichever you were not, darling," he answered smirking.

"No, I mean, what would you be considered?" she tried to explain, "Are you evil or good?"

Jareth leaned so that his face was inches from hers as his blue-eyes bored into hers menacingly.

"What if I told you that I am the most evil being you could ever touch?" he challenged, his teeth flashing in a sinister grin. "What if you discovered that you were married to a king that practiced that dark arts, ate babies in honor of pagan gods, and ravished innocent girls by night?"

"I wouldn't believe it" Sarah answered, looking up at him incredulously with her innocent green eyes.

Jareth was almost taken aback by the resolve in her voice. He had expected her to tremble, to stare at him in wide-eyed fear, but then she never had been afraid of him, had she?

"And why ever wouldn't you?" he asked, forcing a haughty chuckle to disguise his rapture.

"Because that's just not who you are," she said.

At this, the Goblin King could fain suppress a smile as looked at her. Sarah had never been more precious to him than at that moment, staring back at him with her cruel eyes. Did she even realize what she did to him with those eyes of hers? –How could he ever live without her?


	10. Chapter Nine

[Disclaimer: all rights to _Labyrinth_ belong to really rich guys who aren't going to suffer from my writing this fic. --Mergrim, Bruehm, Emrys, Jorum, Leol, and the stuff about the Underground's past and present are all mine...So get over it.

Chapter Nine

"Of Lords and Darkness"

It was midnight when the Fourteen Lords assembled at the Citadel: once the full moon had reached its seat above the columns of Stonehenge, fifteen thrones, all equal in size, appeared before the fifteen stones that formed a semi-circle in the midst of the structure. After the throne, the Fourteen Lords (including Jareth and Sarah) appeared, standing behind them. Sarah duly noted that the fifteenth throne stood empty and bare, dusty from millennia of disuse.

Jareth had drilled his wife on the names of the other thirteen lords and their realms, but there were only three, he said, that were three who were imperative to remember. The first was Megrim, King of the Mountain. Five thousand years ago, Jareth's father, Jorum, had allied himself with Megrim's father, Leol, in the Dwarf and Goblin Wars. The second was Bruehm, King of the Forest. He was the second oldest Sidhe on the Council and he it was his Wood-Trolls Jorum and Leol had fought against, since those days, the Goblin Kingdom and the Mountain Realm had been "at odds" with the Forest Realm. The third, and most important, was Emrys, the River King. He was the oldest Fae that had still lived and it was even rumored that he could remember the Dark Times when the Light Lords and Dark Lords warred against each other, but he would not speak of them to anyone.

"Trust no one completely," Jareth had told Sarah, "for every one of them seeks only their own agenda, but listen carefully to the words of Emrys for he is wise."

Jareth had warned her to remain silent under any circumstance once the Fourteen had assembled and Sarah found no difficulty in obeying when she saw them. She didn't have to ask Jareth which of them was Bruehm, or Megrim.

Bruehm she recognized instantly: he was tall and fair, but his skin, though smooth, seemed hard and aged, like Birchwood. He had a long, dark grey hair (almost like a dusty brown) that fell down his lean shoulders in the front, and cascaded to his knees behind him, causing it to look almost like a part of his rich, earth-colored robes. He seemed almost to be made of wood and stone, possibly from ages of living in the Forest, but he was also ominous and majestic in his way. His eyes were a soft green, like the leaves in late summer, the moment before autumn had changed them to gold, yet they were hard and piercing, marked with the memories of a thousand lifetimes.

Megrim seemed blacker than Jareth on his darkest day. His skin was a pale and smooth, like the hammered silver that came from his mines. His eyes were blacker than a midnight with no moon or stars, but deep within them burned a cold fire that silently threatened to become a white-hot rage. His smile seemed easy and pleasant, almost sincere, if not for his terrible eyes. His hair was like silken jet, which had been pulled back into intricate and exquisite braids, woven with black cord. His robes were all of the deepest, purest ebony Sarah had ever seen, befitting the King of Mines and Caves, as he was called by some.

Emrys was, by far, the most thrilling of all. He seemed ancient and yet he was not old. His white hair which he let flow freely gleamed in the moonlight, amidst his robes. Sarah could not tell their color, for the seemed to like spun silver, yet when he moved she thought she saw blue. His eyes were clear and grey, like deep water, which Sarah could almost enter. She saw in them the wisdom Jareth had spoken of, and yet they were horrible and fierce.

"Goblin King," Emrys addressed Jareth, his voice ringing as strong and smoothly as a timpani across the court, "why have you brought another to this assembly?"

Jareth cleared his voice and stood (all the kings had taken their seats once Emrys sat) before answering, "This is my queen, Sarah of the Labyrinth." He forced a chuckle before adding, "Call me a hot-blooded fool."

"Ha! Newlyweds," Megrim's laughter sang.

The Goblin King looked around at the smirking lords and believed they had bought it. The last he needed was for any of them to know of their curse, or of his weakness. Surely one of them was cruel and ambitious enough to take Sarah and he could not lose her for anything.

"In future, Lord Jareth," teased one of the younger kings, "leave your bride at home breeding heirs."

"In that case," replied Jareth, "I must remain with her."

Sarah blushed deeply at this talk and hoped they would direct their attention away from her.

"Lord Megrim," bellowed the Emrys, recalling them to order "this Council calls you to state your grievances and lay your claims."

Megrim stood as the crowd hushed. He seemed humble, broken, but resilient.

"Noble Majesties," Megrim began, carefully looking Jareth and Emrys in the eye, "I come before you as a beaten man. My kingdom lies almost in ruins. There is a dark force that grows even as we speak. Day after day, village after village is destroyed. A shadow as seeped into the Underground and it is m firm belief that the old ways have returned."

"What nonsense is this, Megrim?" demanded Bruehm.

"I will answer you, sir!" the Side replied, turning and glaring at the Forest King, "I say now that we are no longer united as we once were. There are those of us who have returned to the Dark Times and a Dark Lord sits on this very Council scheming now to destroy the very harmony we have built together."

"And who is this Dark Lord?" Bruehm scoffed as his anger boiled.

Sarah saw Jareth stiffen where he sat. Even without seeing his face, she could sense that he was unnerved, uneasy.

"You, my Lord Bruehm," Megrim stated evenly, his black eyes burning into the fae's green.

Gasps echoed across Stonehenge. Every lord seemed to be murmuring in shock or rage, save for Megrim, Bruehm, Jareth, and Emrys. Those four seemed still and unmovable. Megrim looked almost satisfied and confident; Bruehm remained calm and unfazed; Jareth glowered darkly; and Emrys surveyed the scene warily, his eyes never once betraying his own thoughts.

Seeing that the moment was right, Megrim continued:

"You can no longer deny, Lord Bruehm, it was your trolls who laid siege to the Mountain during my father's reign, that they attacked and murdered Lord Jorum as-"

"Enough!" Emrys shouted. "We will have order in this Council, Lord Megrim, as long as I still draw breath, we shall!"

At that, all were silent, even Megrim seemed to tremble a little and he bowed respectfully to the elder fae.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said softly as he resumed his seat.

"Lord Megrim," said Emrys, "What evidence are you willing to present before this Council that the Forest King is, indeed, a Dark Lord?"

At this Megrim said nothing, but lowered his head in silence. Bruehm could fain disguise a smirk.

"As I thought…" Emrys replied, "Noble Majesties, there is indeed a dark force at play in our lands, but we cannot fight an enemy we do not know. –I propose that each of us appoint two agents to investigate these crimes in a joint effort to resolve this crisis before we are once again at war with each other."

Even as he said that, Sarah felt her strength being pulled from her. It didn't hurt, but she wasn't sure how much longer she would have the strength to stand. She knew she couldn't risk fainting, she knew what it would mean for the Goblin Kingdom, yet she knew it wouldn't be long before she fell apart.

Jareth felt her tug upon his own being and knew she had only a few moments left before her weakness became pain. Trying to be nonchalant and discreet, he removed his glove and rested his elbow upon the arm of his throne with his bare hand in the air, waiting for her to take it. She did hesitantly and his hand closed over hers instantly.

None of the other lords noticed, or if they did, they marked it as sentimentality on the Goblin King's part, but nothing escaped Emrys' ever-seeing eyes, or a dark and sinister glare that watched all.

It was almost dawn when Jareth had put Sarah to bed. He remained with her from the moment they returned to the Castle beyond the Goblin City, to the moment Greta had finished aiding her mistress from her gown into a nightdress, his blue eyes loathe to tear themselves from her, even for the few moments in which his back was turned.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked when they were finally alone.

"Yes, dearest?" he replied, striding to the bed where she lay and sitting on the edge.

"There's going to be a war, isn't there?" She said, more than questioned.

"Almost undoubtedly," he sighed.

"Do you believe Bruehm is a Dark Lord?" she raised.

"He killed my father, Sarah." Jareth's voice was thick and heavy.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah asked, sounding almost hurt.

"I don't make it a habit to share my personal experiences with others," was the cold answer.

Normally, a response like that would have injured Sarah, but the look in his eyes made it impossible for her to be angry with him. He seemed weak and vulnerable and she knew how he hated that, so she decided to change the subject to one that was weighing equally on her mind.

"If there is going to be a war, then does that mean…" Sarah's voice trailed off, unable to finish.

Jareth's frown slowly turned into a wicked grin as his blue eyes danced in the firelight.

"As a matter of fact," his voice lilted in jest, "it does fall in line with the terms of our marriage."

Though she tried not to, Sarah couldn't help but scoot away from him in the bed, quickly turning his grin into a dark frown. A moment ago, they had felt so close, she was warm to him and now… What more could she want from him?

"Goodnight," he said simply, not bothering to add his usual endearment.

Before she could respond, he stood and strode from the room.


	11. Chapter Ten

_Hi! --Thanks again for the reviews, but goodness you people are demanding. --Who do you think you are anyway? Jareth? LOL.  
Seriously, though, I really appreciate your comments and I'm so glad you guys like my story. _

_S. Cartwright._

[Disclaimer: All rights to _Labyrinth_ belong to LucasFilms and Jim Henson. --My characters and plots are my own.

Chapter Ten

"Emrys and Truth"

After leaving Sarah in their chamber, Jareth went into his study and poured himself a glass of wine. He downed it all at once and sighed as he felt the haziness set in far too slowly; his heart was still aching and he could still remember every detail of every cold word between his wife and him since the day they met. He didn't know how to save her, he didn't know how to make her love him, and he didn't know how he was supposed to lead his kingdom into war or how he could even dream of it if he lost her.

"Sarah is getting weaker, isn't she?" asked a deep, clear voice from behind the Goblin King.

Jareth turned to see Emrys standing in a corner in front of the fire place as his grey eyes seemed to burn through the younger fae.

"Yes," Jareth answered thickly, turning from his visitor to pour another glass and taking a long gulp.

"You know why?" Emrys pursued further.

Jareth let out the long sigh of a beaten man, of a heartbroken man.

"Because she doesn't love me," he confessed.

"Does she have any reason to?" the River King questioned, arching an eye brow as he approached the distraught husband.

"I have done everything she could wish for," Jareth insisted. "I reordered time, I turned the world upside down, I saved her…"

"Have you told her that you love her?" Emrys inquired, hitting his mark.

The Goblin King frowned and glared darkly at his wine glass.

"Fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave," he recited, closing his eyes as his mind went back to that moment.

"But you never told her that you loved her," Emrys sighed, his eyes gleaming either with amusement or knowing. No one could ever tell the difference.

Jareth cleared his throat and filled a second wine glass for Emrys, wanting to change the subject.

"I take it you didn't come to discuss the details of my marriage," he said, handing the goblet to his companion.

"I think you and I both know things were far from right at the Council last night," Emrys admitted.

Jareth did not answer, but re-assumed his kingly aura and walked to the hearth, his back turned to the older sidhe.

"You are undecided, my friend," Emrys further observed.

"Bruehm killed my father," Jareth reminded him coolly.

"There is no proof of that," the River King replied, sipping his wine.

"He was stabbed with iron," Jareth insisted, "Iron from the Forest, not the Mountain."

"That proves nothing!" Emrys' voice boomed, "You are far too trusting of your friend, Megrim."

"The Mountain King is the Goblin Kingdom's oldest ally," was the only answer.

"Lord Jorum still died, while under the protection of Dwarf Generals," Emrys reminded him, striking a chord within the young king's marrow, "clearly the alliance is a faulty one."

Jareth turned to reply to the last remark, only to find that he stood in an empty study.

Sighing, he returned his gaze to the embers.

Morning's gentle light had begun to creep its way through the windows and lattices of the Royal Chambers when Jareth returned to find the drapes of the bed still drawn shut. He pulled back one of them, carefully so that he wouldn't disturb her, and saw that she was fast asleep, but her furrowed brows denoted pain. She was aching because of his prolonged absence and he silently cursed himself for it.

Moving as noiselessly as he could, he pulled off his gloves and kicked off his boots as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and removed it, before gently slipping into bed and stretching himself out beside her. Tentatively, he laid his hand upon her shoulder and chafed it tenderly until the lines upon her face began to erase themselves and she began to move closer to him, nestling against him as his arms willingly cradled her.

"Jareth," she whispered softly.

Her husband looked down at her, his eyes slightly narrowed and his brows knit together at seeing her soft green eyes slowly open when she should be sleeping.

"I'm sorry about your father," she finished.

Jareth felt his entire being warm at the honest sincerity in her words, in her eyes. He was bewitched by her eyes: there was no use in denying that.

"Thank you," he replied earnestly and freely. "And I'm sorry to be the one who took you from your family. You must know if there had been another way…"

Sarah held up her hand.

"I made my choice," she said calmly. "Thank you for helping me," she said, referring to his nearness that was slowly restoring her strength.

He only nodded, half-afraid that an attempt to speak would render him incapable of doing what he must do next.

"Sarah," he began, "I love you."

Almost instantaneously, her mouth fell open and she began to respond, only to feel his warm fingers gently stop her lips. He had to finish before she said anything:

"This is probably one of the few times in our life together that you will hear me say those words out loud, but always know, that they are true." He paused before going on: "I cannot change my nature, I'm far too old for that and if I am less than what I am before my rivals or my people, it will be my undoing. Especially now… Please, understand."

Sarah looked up into his sad, hopeful eyes in wonder. He was not proud, nor demanding, but indeed gentle and beseeching. When he said, "please", it sounded as though it came from the depths of his soul and the softness in his voice seemed to tug at her very heart.

And yet, she wasn't even sure she knew what love was. How could she tell him? She knew she was in a position to hurt him and, for the first time, she couldn't even dream of doing it, not when he was helpless before her. Still… She couldn't lie to him.

"I understand, Jareth," she replied cautiously, "but… I, um... I don't love you. I'm not afraid of you and I don't hate you, but…"

Jareth held up a hand to stop her, knowing that she couldn't continue and that he really couldn't bear to hear more.

"I understand, dearest," he interjected. "But, Sarah, you must try."

He didn't mean to sound demanding, but she didn't realize how truly imperative it was that she did. However, to his relief, she didn't seem phased by it.

"I will try," Sarah promised.

Jareth gave her a small smile. He knew he word was good, but a large part of him seriously doubted he could ever win her love.

Sensing her fatigue, however, he quickly changed the subject.

"Get some rest now," he instructed.

Sarah made no attempt to pull away from his arms, knowing that if she left them, she risked facing the ache again, even pain if he left her. Sighing contently, she rested her head on his pillow and began to drift off.

"Goodnight, Jareth," she whispered, even if it was morning.

"Goodnight, little Sarah," he replied, smiling warmly.

As he felt her breathing pattern change, signaling that she was fast asleep within his arms, he rested his cheek against the crown of her head and let out a sigh of contentment.

"You precious thing…" he breathed.


	12. Chapter Eleven

[Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Chapter Eleven

"Questions"

Jareth and Sarah slept until well into the afternoon. When she finally awoke, she hadn't felt so refreshed in weeks which made her hope that, perhaps, she was getting stronger and the fatigue was just an effect of the transformation from mortal to fae. She almost wanted to jump out of bed and go running through the Labyrinth, but Jareth was still fast asleep and holding her fast within his arms.

For the first time in their marriage, he looked truly at peace, like he had forgotten all his cares. She couldn't bear to wake him. It seemed strange to see him like that, without his façade or costumes, no defenses, no witty come backs, and no scheming.

Soon, she felt him stir and his breathing pattern began to shift into something a little stronger, more conscious. His eyes slowly fluttered open and he looked down into his wife's face.

"Rise and shine, sleepy-head," Sarah said, her green eyes dancing with laughter.

Jareth arched his brow whimsically at her as the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. He was grateful to see her smiling at him and was trying to think of everything he could possibly do to keep it up.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, remembering that he was a king with a kingdom to attend to.

"Not much longer than I was," she answered, scooting to her side of the bed so he would have room to sit up. "I don't think I've ever seen you sleep so deeply; I didn't want to wake you."

"In future, I must ask at that you do," Jareth groaned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing. "I think you'll want to draw the drapes, dearest," he said as he opened the clothes-press, "or else go back to sleep for a little while. You could use the rest."

Sarah watched his back curiously: his voice had resumed its usual confidence and directness, but he had reverted back to the early days of their marriage. He seemed to move at a more urgent pace, almost like a teenage boy pretending he didn't like a girl, she noted with an inward smile. She expected as much: he was the Goblin King, after all, and he had made himself vulnerable to her.

Letting out a thoughtful sigh, Sarah got up on her knees and pulled the curtains on Jareth's side of the bed shut, hiding them from each other.

"Sarah, are you still awake?" his voice called from the other side of the velvet.

"Yes," she answered.

"Sarah-"

Jareth didn't have a chance to finish before the door flew open and Greta came trudging through the room carrying the breakfast trays. She stopped in her tracks, wide-eyed and a little confused to see her king already up and dressed. She'd always had a good instinct to tell her when the king and queen were up and ready for breakfast and it wounded her pride deeply this one day she was wrong.

"Oh, Your Majesties," Greta exclaimed, curtsying awkwardly with the tray in hand, "forgive me. –You must be starved. I'm such a clumsy, foolish old girl. I never meant-"

"Peace, Greta," Jareth interjected, noting out of the corner of his eye that Sarah was opening the drapes. He couldn't get enough of her. –What was wrong with him?

"I've much to attend to," he continued, speaking more to his wife than the maid, "so I must be going."

"But you haven't eaten!" Sarah exclaimed, causing her husband to turn on his heel and look at her, awaiting what she would say next.

Sarah felt her tongue thicken and carefully played her words mentally before she said them. She remembered the last time she had addressed her husband in front of Greta and certainly didn't want a repeat of that night. She wanted to keep that warmth in his eyes when he first looked at her earlier that day.

"My lord," she said, remembering how all the queens and ladies in her fairytales and Shakespearean plays addressed their husbands, "please, at least eat a little." Lowering her voice because she wasn't sure if her next statement was too intrusive to be said in front of Greta, she added, "You have not eaten in two days."

"Very well," Jareth sighed, feigning annoyance, "to appease you, foolish girl."

With that, Jareth floated to the bed where Greta had placed the tray and sat across from Sarah, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Greta," he said, "that will be all: your mistress will call you when she needs your assistance."

Greta silently bobbed a curtsy and headed for the door without hesitation.

"You haven't been eating much as well," he said softly.

Sarah nodded, knowing his meaning. "I feel much better today," she said.

A ghost of a smile passed over Jareth's features, then passed. Some nagging voice inside told him it was far from over. She had to love him before the spell passed and, though her eyes were softer and warmer when she looked at him, he knew it wasn't quite love… But it was bloody close enough and he loved the peace between them at that moment.

Sarah arched one eye-brow at him, noting that he hadn't touched breakfast yet. He grimaced in mock distaste and took a bite of the cold mutton on his plate, not without noticing the pleased smile on his wife's face. He would have to keep this up.

He was pleased to see her dive into breakfast heartily; it had been a long time since she had an appetite.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked.

"Yes?"

"Did you love me before?"

He looked up from his mutton to see her green eyes looking at him almost timidly.

"When I was running the Labyrinth?" she continued; her face betraying that she wished she hadn't asked.

Jareth let out a shallow sigh, remembering back to those days: how she fought against him, how she enchanted him, and how he fought to keep her.

"'But what nobody knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl and he had given her certain powers'," he recited in reply, his normally piercing blue eyes softening as he looked into hers. "I loved you before you stepped foot in the Labyrinth, Sarah."

"Why?"

"I have work to do," Jareth stated, standing up and preparing to quit the room. "Sarah, I know how much you love your 'state visits' to the Bog Prince and his court, but I must ask that you remain within the castle walls until everything has been resolved. These are dangerous times."

Sarah stared up at him in shock, feeling her cheeks redden. She thought she had kept her visits to her friends a secret. What else did he spy on? She almost wanted to scream at him, but knew that the last thing he needed was a fight with her. –When things were back to normal, they could argue to their heart's content, but not now.

Realizing that he was waiting for a response, she nodded.

It surprised her when he took her hand in his gloved one and pressed a tender kiss to her white fingers before turning and leaving the room wordlessly. By the time the door had closed behind him, she felt feverish all over from that simple gesture. He didn't even look at her, but the feeling of his lips on her skin was awakening feelings in her young body she didn't know she was capable of.

Greta came toddling in almost as soon as he had left. She was going on pleasantly about what a fine day it was, but Sarah couldn't really hear her. Between Jareth and the thought of war, her mind had no room for news of kittens being born in the barn or of the apple harvest.

Why did Jareth love her and why wouldn't he tell her? And why did it feel like he was hiding something from her? Like he was afraid? Yes, the threat of war was troubling, but he wasn't the type to blanch in the face of conflict.

The room was beginning to spin. Greta had finished helping Sarah into a velvet gown that was the color of dusty purple, and as soon as the maid had stopped running the ivory comb through her mistress' hair, the Goblin Queen threw back the mahogany doors and strode out onto the stone balcony. From that place, she could see the entire Labyrinth and some of the furthest corners of the Goblin Kingdom, yet, while she normal reveled in the breathtaking sight, today she paid it no heed, but let the autumn winds play through her loose, dark hair and cool her burning cheeks.

Even now, she was beginning to feel her strength begin to wear away and the tingling warned her that the ache would soon follow, then the pain. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. All she could hear was her own heart pounding in her ears as the vision of the Labyrinth faded into darkness. Voices whispered in her ear, speaking in indiscernible languages, threatening and hissing at her. The winds had grown furious, as though they were trying to tear her apart and the whispers were becoming louder, like a thousand booming voices, a hundred times stronger the Emrys', were shouting at her.

"Jareth!" she screamed, hiding her face in her hands as tears fell fast.

As soon as the name left her lips, she felt his warmth behind her as he caught her up in his arms and carried her inside, magically closing the locking the doors behind them, causing the voices to silence. He laid her upon their bed and sat beside her, still holding her close to stop the pain and comfort her.

"Hush," he soothed, stroking her hair in his glove hand.

Sarah slowly looked up into his face and felt his free hand instantly come to her cheek to dry away the tears. She saw no answers in his eyes, just the same questions reflected in her own and, unable to look at them, she buried her face in his shoulder as he rocked her.

What was happening?


	13. Precious Thing Jareth's Song

_Sorry, it didn't upload properly the first time. This is how it's SUPPOSED to read.  
-S. Cartwright_

Disclaimer: _Labyrinth_ belongs to the respective copy-right holders, however _Precious Thing_ is an original song by my true identity (Sarah Cartwright is a pseudonym, but I do write, etc under my own name.)

………………………………………………

Jareth held her silently, feeling her scalding tears penetrate the silk and linen of his waistcoat and shirt. Her sobs were subsiding, but very slowly, not that he could blame her. He couldn't know exactly what it was she heard, but shadows and echoes rang through his own being, giving him a pretty clear idea. –But why Sarah?

"The room won't stop spinning," she whispered timorously.

"Look into this," he instructed, conjuring a crystal with his hand as he slowly put a spell to work.

Sarah obeyed and Jareth felt her rigid muscles begin to relax as he continued to cradle her.

Sighing, he laid his cheek against the crown of her head and began to sing:

_I am still wond'ring  
What you're doing here.  
I thought it was over _

_You naïve little girl? _

Are you still wond'ring  
What you're doing here?  
Did you think it was over  
Am I what you fear?

I can be cruel  
When you hold my heart  
Can't live within you  
And I can't move the stars

(chorus twice)

Precious thing… (repeat and fade)


	14. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve  
"Truth"

The sun was setting when Sarah opened her eyes again, finding herself still cradled within her husband's arms. She only gave him a small smile when he arched an eyebrow and frowned at her disapprovingly: she knew how it irritated him when she didn't cower beneath his glares.

Her smile quickly faded as memories of earlier that afternoon came rushing through her mind. Jareth clearly noticed because he deliberately became more stoic.

"I really don't know how I am supposed to run a kingdom when I must spend my every moment tending to you," he complained, hoping to distract her.

"Jareth," Sarah whispered, "I'm dying, aren't I?"

For a solitary moment, the Goblin King was bereft of all defenses, all facades, and all answers. His darkening eyes betrayed his own helplessness and the shadow that fear cast upon his face was undeniable, unmistakable. He sat with his back ram-rod straight, almost as though he could bluff his way out of the truth he could not face.

His silence was answer enough.

Sarah pulled away from his embrace and turned her head on the downy pillow. Three months ago, this same fate terrified her, it had been unimaginable, but now she felt nothing. Life wasn't fair and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Sarah," Jareth's voice was taut and forced, "look at me."

She didn't move.

"Sarah…" he sighed, reaching to touch her face with his gloved fingertips. "Sarah…"

"Why didn't it work?" she asked softly, calmly.

He stared at her silently, feeling the weight of her words press his heart, slowly crushing it. He had been here before: in the Escher room, when he realized that, though he loved her, she would leave him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"It didn't work," he began slowly, blinking back the threatening sting in his eyes, "because you don't love me."

Sarah turned and looked up at him with an expression he could not read. Was it confusion or knowing? Disbelief or acceptance? –Her soft green eyes just gazed into his evenly, almost as if determined to unman him.

"How long?" she questioned.

He took a deep breath and blinked back the sting again before answering: "There is no way to tell."

Sarah just nodded, surprising him at her complacency. The Sarah of two-and-a-half years ago would have cried petulantly like a child, but then that Sarah had grown up in the Labyrinth. His Sarah…

"It's not fair, is it?" he chuckled weakly, hoping he could make her smile, even a little.

"And what's _your_ basis of comparison?" Sarah inquired, arching her eyebrow.

He just gave her a weak smirk in response and folded her white hand within both of his.

"Sarah," he began, mustering up his will, "there is still a chance. Nothing is wrong with you as long as we're together: you can learn to love me."

"It's that simple?" she asked, almost skeptically.

"This is the Underground," he reminded her, a genuine smirk curling his mouth.

"What if I can't?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Jareth felt his very heart sink with her words. –What if she couldn't love him? What would he do if he had to live out eternity without her love? What would he do if he lost her? –He didn't answer.

"You'll love me alright," he promised at length, his grin conceited and confident, even if it was only a ruse. "One day soon, you won't be able to tear yourself from me."

In the past and under different circumstances, Sarah would have found his attitude infuriating, but, in all honesty, she was far too tired to care. She was even tired enough to find his statement brilliantly amusing.

"I can't tear myself away from you now," she replied chuckling. "At least, not without dying, that is."

Jareth couldn't hide his pleased smile as he watched her eyes dance girlishly. In that moment she was every bit the girl he had fallen in love with years ago; the same innocence, the same spirit. He almost wanted to stop time just hold onto her laughter.

After the final incident, Jareth informed Sarah that she would be spending her days by his side. Though he said nothing, he had become convinced that some malevolent force was working against him and his bride and he was determined to keep her where he could be sure she was safe. If something like that happened again, he knew, she would die from it.

So the Goblin King and Queen spent their mornings, afternoons, and evenings together in Jareth's study. At first, she sat in an arm chair by the fire place, reading whatever she had found to educate herself on the ways of the Underground, but even on the first day Jareth's diplomatic and domestic dealings ardently intrigued her and he soon found her practically reading over his shoulder.

He pretended to be intensely irritated that the "foolish girl" expected him to teach her political science when he was trying to run an investigation that could through the entire Underground into a second Dark Time, but in all actuality he hadn't expected an less of her. He did nothing to help her and took no time to instruct her, but he let her watch and learn from him, never once forbidding her from "hanging over his shoulder like some depraved vulture".

Sarah caught on quickly, just as he expected her to, and soon he was handing her the more trivial domestic problems to deal with, so that he could focus upon the more delicate issues regarding his relations with the other realms and the progress of the investigation.

The whole situation regarding Bruehm troubled Jareth: of the twenty-eight agents, only a handful reported back to their lords and Jareth's were among the missing and unaccounted for. Both of Bruehm's agents had returned and reported to their king of strange happenings in the Mountain Kingdoms. Megrim openly declared this to be proof of Bruehm's guilt and Jareth felt he should agree but everything felt so out of place…

Bruehm was no fool: why would he spare his own agents when all the others were either missing or found floating down stream and when all eyes in the Underground were upon him, ready to destroy him? No, Bruehm was not a fool…

These same thoughts played themselves over in Jareth's mind, robbing him of sleep and appetite. When night had fallen and Sarah was sleeping in his arms, oblivious to the fact that he was watching over her, he would smooth her hair gently so as not to wake her and muse over all that was happening. What if he went to war? What would Sarah do if he left her? What would he do if he lost her?

Neither of them spoke of it, but there were often afternoons when Sarah would retreated to her arm chair or the window to clear her head and have some semblance of privacy for a while. For a while, it seemed peaceful, wonderful not to have to deal with Goblins, etc, but if she remained there for too long she would begin to feel intense fatigue and a dull ache seep into her body.

Jareth never said anything when he felt her draw up to his side and touch his shoulder with his fingertips, but he would hold her hand, or cause her to let him hold her until she felt better.

What else could he do?


	15. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"A Promise"

It was well after midnight and Sarah had been asleep for hours. Jareth always felt a wave of contentment intermixed with a drawing ache when he heard her soft sighs and felt her head shift ever so slightly on his breast. They had the life he had wanted, save for the minor problem that she didn't love him. They spent their days at battles of wit; there were times when he went out of his way for drive her insane, just to see the burning fire in her eyes and feel the waves of emotion emitting from her. But at night, exhausted from the toll the day had taken upon her body and soul, she would crawl into their massive bed and nestle into his arms, letting his presence ease the ache for a while.

He sometimes wondered if it was really just the pain that drove her into his embrace, or if, perhaps, she had grown fond of him in some small way, but he would ultimately decided to banish all thoughts from his mind. It was better to just accept things as they were and not delve too deeply in search of meaning he may very well not want to know. She was beside him: that's what mattered.

Jareth slept little during this period. When he lay down at night, his thoughts were always with Sarah, (Was she safe? Was she warm enough? Was she strong enough?) but as the hours crept by his mind wandered back to the Underground, to Bruehm and Megrim. During those times, Emrys' voice would always echo in his mind: was he really too trusting? Bruehm killed his father: no matter how he tried, Jareth could not banish the memory of Jorum's body being brought back to the Goblin City, bloody and disfigured.

As the images of his past flashed through his mind, Jareth felt his rage burn white hot in his breast, causing Sarah to let out a wince, even in her sleep as though she could feel it within her own being. This never failed to placate him, even for the briefest moment, and his face would soften as he soothed her back to pleasant dreams.

The morning would always find the Goblin King and Queen asleep and at peace, both vaguely refreshed, though both were slowly waning: the former due to lack of sleep and the latter due to her own depleting strength. They would eat their breakfast together; Jareth scowling sourly at his plate, while Sarah chatted pleasantly with Greta.

For a fortnight, the routine went unaltered in all areas, save for the developments in the investigation, but with time even they became perfunctory: another agent was missing, another village had been sacked. Megrim pleaded with the Council to give him their support against Bruehm in a full-scale attack, but Emrys stood firmly against it and the other kings unfailingly voted with the eldest Sidhe.

Jareth hadn't spoken to Emrys since the night of the last Council Meeting, but rather avoided him like the plague. It hurt him more deeply than he cared to admit that the one person he held in esteem, almost above his own father's memory, would side with his mortal enemy. He knew there was no point in feeling betrayed; after all, it was every one for himself in the Underground, but the Goblin King was slowly learning that he had a heart and that heart was capable of being broken.

Some nights, after spending the day pouring over official letters, listening to petitions and witnessing interviews between her husband and emissaries from other realms, Sarah remained awake long enough to question Jareth on the little details he felt were best not volunteered to her. He was always evasive at first and grumbled, but she was persistent and he found it very difficult to put her off and impossible to lie to her.

"Jareth," Sarah asked one night, causing him to break his gaze from the fireplace he had been staring at so intently.

They were sitting together on the fainting couch; he clad in his black dressing gown, devoid of all regalia but his gold pendant and his gloves, which would come off when they had climbed into bed and he had wrapped her in his arms.

When Jareth's blue eyes, now softened by the firelight and the intimacy of being alone with her, focused upon her, she knew she had his attention and continued:

"We're going to war, aren't we?" It was meant as a question, but the tone was more like a statement. "You've doubled the castle guard, the troops are in constant training, you've ordered rations… What will happen? Will you go to the front, or are you going to oversee things from the castle-?"

"Though it may be the practice Aboveground, it is considered cowardly for a monarch to sit at home while his kingdom is at war," Jareth answered. "I will certainly not lead a charge against the enemy unless it is absolutely necessary, but I will be on the battle field, yes."

"And what's expected of me?" she asked, knowing that she would probably be dead before things escalated.

"Typically, you would remain here to insure the security of the realm, but in this instance you will be at my side at all times," he told her. "There's too much at stake, Sarah."

"Gosh… I must annoy the heck out of you…" Sarah sighed, casting her gaze absently toward the embers, laughing at herself.

"Of course you do, silly girl," Jareth responded, smirking devilishly. "You drive me absolutely mad."

Sarah laughed full-heartedly, her eyes dancing in the firelight, causing Jareth's heart to leap. He wanted to crush her to him and shower her face with kisses. He had never felt that way for anyone; he was a King of Goblins, he wasn't soft or tender… But when he saw her precious face light up like that, when he heard her laughter ring, he felt like flying.

When she felt a leather-clad hand close over hers, the fingers tenderly wrapping around the delicate flesh, her laughter ceased and her smile melted, but not to fear or rage: the look in her eyes was one of acceptance and contentment, intermingled with a measure of gratitude. She raised her eyes to meet his and blushed sweetly under the soft warmth of his gaze.

"What will make you happy, Sarah?" he asked.

She just stared at him oddly, wondering what on earth he could be going on about.

"What is you want most of all?" he insisted, holding her chin in his fingertips, his eyes boring into her face inquisitively.

Sarah cast her eyes to the floor, unable to look into his face as she tried to think of what it was she wanted. –Her family? What good could come of that? –Her dream had been to be Queen of a Fairy Tale Kingdom and have a King who loved her. Yes, she wasn't queen of a fantasy realm with nice little fairies and unicorns, and, yes, the King had a foul temper and was famous for stealing children, but the Goblin Kingdom was enchanting and amusing in its own right and the Goblin King did love her. –He had already given her everything she had wanted, and yet she had given him nothing in return.

"I have nothing to ask of you," she replied giving him her sweetest smiles. "Thank you."

Jareth arched his eyebrow.

"You've already given me everything I could possibly want," Sarah told him. "You've made my dreams come true."

Jareth smiled, one of his smiles that looked like a boyish grin, and pulled her into his arms, pressing her against his heart.

"You precious thing…" she heard Jareth mumble contently into her hair.

"Sire!" called a shrill voice from outside, "Sire!"

Jareth stiffened and let Sarah go, running to the balcony and looking down at the courtyard to see Sir Didymus striding Ambrosias below, his clothing covered in soot.

"Your Majesty," Didymus cried, "the outer borders, they are under siege! It is the Wood-Trolls, my lord!"

"Take a battalion of as many goblins as you see fit, Sir Knight!" Jareth ordered quickly, "Rally them and lead them to through the marshlands. We'll take them by surprise. –Go, get to it! Don't just stand there!"

In obedience, the knight galloped off, shouting for every scoundrel and vagabond to get up and come to attention, leaving the Goblin King for a moment with his rage.

"Bruehm!" Jareth fumed; his face pale.

Instantly, his clothing was transformed into a pair of riding pants and a breastplate over a heavy, leather jerkin, and his sword was at his side. The thoughts spinning through Jareth's mind were maddening. All he could picture was Bruehm lying on a bloody field with Jorum's sword sheathed in his rancid carcass. All this because Emrys stood for the Forest King before him!

"Jareth," came Sarah's voice from the hearth.

He turned and looked into her cruel eyes faced with a decision that he couldn't make in a million years, but a choice he had to make in a matter of moments. If left Sarah for too long, she would die, but if he abandoned his kingdom, what then? He had been a king for centuries and had never once blanched when it came to defending his realm, but before he had been alone. –How could he choose.

Sarah knew what he was waiting for, what he was thinking. She knew he couldn't make the choice, so she made it for him.

"Go," she said simply, her voice unwavering and completely resigned to whatever her fate may be.

Jareth closed the space between them, and lifted the pendant and chain from off his neck, casting the strongest spell he could upon it.

"Never take it off," he instructed, hanging it around her neck, "it will keep me with you while I'm gone." Placing bare hands upon her shoulders, he caused her to look up into his face. "I swear to you, Sarah, I will return before the sun sets tomorrow. –Can you wait for me?"

"I'll try," she answered honestly. "Be safe." She wasn't pleading for fear of her own life or fate, but for his. The thought of not seeing him again was agonizing. She had lost everything else, how could she lose him too?

"I will always come for you, Sarah," he promised again, cupping her face in his hands. "I will always love you."

Unable to deny himself any longer, the Goblin King leaned down and pressed his lips against his wife, capturing them in a deep and passionate kiss, imparting as much of his power to her as he could. Ignoring the shouts and ruckus of an army scrambling into ranks below and without, Jareth savored his wife's every breath and the sweet warmth and delicious taste of her mouth.

"Wait here for me," he entreated, slowly tearing away from her.

Sarah opened her mouth to say the words that resonated through the depths of her very being, but before a syllable could pass her lips, he was gone and she was left alone, praying for his safe and speedy return with everything that was within her.


	16. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen  
"Treachery"

Night slowly faded into a dark morning as Sarah paced the stone floor of their chamber, wringing her hands thoughtfully, straining her ear for any sign of Jareth's return or news of the battle's outcome. She had changed from her nightshift into a plain black gown and pleated her hair into a braid in attempt to distract herself, but nothing could make the hours pass by faster or ease her mind.

She still felt his lips against hers, their warmth seeming to spread throughout her entire being, almost melting into her. His scent lingered in the room, making her mind hazy and doing little to abate the weight upon her heart. Pressing the gold pendant against her breast, she felt the strength she found in his embrace, but it felt empty without his arms. –What if he never held her again?

Realizing that she must pull herself together for the sake of her country, Sarah abandoned the room and strode into the throne room where a handful of goblins and mortal servants had gathered and were talking in hushed voices about the situation. She did her best to possess the room with the same power and force of character Jareth wielded, but she couldn't deny that a part of her was terrified that at any moment something would happen to prove to the world she was no queen: only a little girl in a costume.

Deliberately causing her skirts to twirl as she spun on her heel, Sarah sat down regally upon Jareth's thrown and reclined with feigned leisure against the velvet cushions. She knew all eyes were on her, watching and waiting.

"Where is Prince Hoggle?" Sarah demanded, knowing that her husband had ordered the dwarf to the Goblin Castle before he left.

"There is no tellin' ya majesty," replied the bravest of the goblins. "Might be, he got his heads chopped off." The goblin laughed inanely at his own joke, causing Sarah's face to grow red with annoyance.

"Quiet!" she bellowed, jumping to her feet and glaring down at the wretched creature with eyes of flaming jade.

At that, the room was silent, struck with awe that the sweet queen could be so terribly powerful, so cold, like the Goblin King. Those few who bore witness to the incident half-expected her to conjure a crystal and send him to the oubliette, or throw him into the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Sarah herself was no less surprised by her own actions. The power of her voice and the immediate response caused her breath to catch slightly and, hidden within the layers of skirts, she felt her knees give way slightly as the adrenaline passed through her system. Steeling herself, she resumed her seat, just as confidently as before, and looked around the room with eyes that were veiled with disdain though they were truly wary.

"Your Majesty," announced an older goblin with a white beard, entering the throne room, "His Royal Highness, Prince Hoggle is here."

"Bring him forth," Sarah commanded, keeping her tone even and steady. She turned to the goblins and mortals within the room: "Leave us."

In response, they just stood there, still and dumb as statues.

"Get out!" Sarah bellowed, standing and pushing the goblin nearest her thrown for emphasis. She couldn't bring herself to kick them the way Jareth did, though she now truly understood his frustration with the wretched beasts, but she knew they lacked the intelligence to truly comprehend spoken language. Beating them, however, was always effective.

As the goblins and mortals cleared the room, Hoggle came trudging through the doorway looking tired and worn. Sarah instantly ran to catch him in a relieved embrace

"Oh, Hoggle…" she cried, "thank goodness you're here."

"There, there, little lady," he said soothingly, stroking her hair with his knobby hand, "it'll be alright."

"Do you know what's happening?" Sarah inquired. "Jareth is gone and I haven't heard any news from the battle."

"I can't say that I've heard much," Hoggle answered, scratching his head. "That is, there've been heaps of troops come through the Bog and, occasionally, I see a red light in the north, but I've not heard nothing about the King or the battle."

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?!" she fumed, pacing a half-circle around herself, causing her skirts to twirl. "I have to defend this city and I don't even have a clue about what's happening to Jareth."

"I'm just fine," rang a voice from behind her.

Sarah whipped around to see the Goblin King standing beside his throne, smirking confidently with his head cocked to the side as always. He had exchanged the breastplate and jerkin for a poet's shirt and black leather waistcoat and, to Sarah's unending joy, appeared to be unscathed.

"Jareth!" she cried happily, running into his arms.

He caught her readily, his eyes gleaming like a tiger that's captured its prey and Hoggle's eyes went wide to see that the instant Jareth had her, both the Goblin King and Queen vanished.

Miles away, on the very northern border of the Goblin Kingdom, Jareth stood in the square of a nearly decimated village, running his sword through a Cave Troll's gullet when he felt a quick tug upon his being. If it had been a rope, it would have pulled him to the other side o the square instantly, but he remained standing: physically unharmed, though fully aware of what had happened.

"Sarah..." he breathed, his hand going to his heart.


	17. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen  
"The Dark Lord"

Jareth stood amidst a see of chaos as though he wasn't even a part of it. All around him was fire and death, but he couldn't see or hear any of it. It was as though he was trapped in slow motion, surrounded by fast and dark world. _Sarah._ The name echoed through his mind as he felt her being taken farther and farther away from him.

"Goblin King!" called a voice, ringing faintly through Jareth's stupor, "Goblin King! –Jareth!"

Slowly, the fae turned to see Megrim before him, atop a mighty griffin. His eyes seemed sympathetic and yet, dark, clouded.

"Jareth, the kingdom is lost: come with me!" Megrim shouted above the carnage.

"They've taken my queen!" Jareth heard himself shriek in response. "They've taken her, Megrim!"

"Sarah is safe," Megrim assured him, "I took her to the Mountain. –She's safe, my friend."

The Goblin King looked deep into the black eyes of the Mountain King, a look that held no emotion, no feeling, only a cold, empty stare. The ghosts of satisfaction flinted across Megrim's face and brought a spark deep within the darkness of his terrible eyes. Out of the emptiness in Jareth's eyes, a burning light came forth like a revelation. It was as though a dark glass had shattered, causing the Goblin King to see clearly at last.

"This was your doing!" he shouted, "You've caused this!"

Megrim glowered darkly, realizing that his ruse was forfeit.

"It was for the greater good, my friend," he insisted. "You must believe me!"

"Where is Sarah?!" Jareth demanded, brandishing his sword.

In the next moment, the two Fae Lords were transported to the Citadel: a place, Megrim knew, Jareth would not shed blood in. Storm clouds loomed over head, darkening the sky, but they nothing compared to the black tempests within the eyes of the Goblin King as he stared at his one-time friend and ally.

"Your queen is safe," Megrim re-stated calmly, pacing around his companion. "Do you think I would harm you or yours?"

"I think you capable of anything, Megrim," Jareth replied coldly, "even attacking your own lands as well as those of your allies. I promise you, if any harm has come to my wife, you will beg me for death before I am through with you. And you will not receive it."

"Do you not even care to hear my defense?" the Mountain King asked, his brow arching in offense.

Jareth remained silent. He wanted nothing more than to take the blackguard's head then and there, but they stood in the Citadel and as long as they stood there, the Goblin King would abide by its justice.

Seeing that he would listen, Megrim began his justification:

"Seven thousand years ago, a Fae Lord rose to power on the Council with the purpose of uniting both worlds under one single banner, not dividing both into fifteen warring tribes."

"Silence!" Jareth bellowed, "You dare speak of that lord here? You dare to desecrate this ground once more?"

"Oh, Jareth," Megrim's was almost a sinister chuckle, "you're so naïve. This ground has seen much evil: it is evil. From these rocks, selfish Fae Lords have taken it upon themselves to do the work of the Great High King, leaving the mortals to their own destruction. –And what has it lead to? The world was dark then and it is dark now. –The mortals live in turmoil: they kill each other over race, money, land and power. Theft and murder is rampant on the streets, their youth are in open rebellion! –They are sheep without a shepherd."

"The High King will return," Jareth replied thickly. "He will return and he will make it right."

"When?" Megrim challenged. "It has been to millennia on earth since anyone has even seen him. The Underground has not seen him since before the Dark Times. –He is dead, Jareth! Or else he will not return at all. –Do you think he cares for our trivial little corner of infinity?"

Jareth remained silent.

Smirking, Megrim continued: "Why do we perish, waiting for him? Why do we not seize the world now? Why do we not save it from itself?"

"There is no power in the Underground strong enough," the Goblin King stated simply.

"No, but there was one once," Megrim reminded him.

"Do not speak of it here," Jareth hissed, enunciating each syllable carefully.

"The Fifteenth Lord could hold it," Megrim insisted, "She could be our salvation."

"She?" Jareth glared darkly at the Mountain King.

"I have seen her," Megrim confessed, "I have spoken with her. The Council destroyed, not because she was dark, but because she saw the light, she saw the truth."

"The Fifteenth Lord was a queen?" the Goblin King spoke more to himself, than to Megrim

"Morgan La Fae," was the only response. "Jareth, she is the only one who can save us. –She can even save Sarah."

Jareth turned burning eyes toward Megrim, almost as though he could kill the other fae with the hatred welling in his breast.

"At what cost?" he demanded, his voice maintaining an icy monotone.

"Stand with us," Megrim pleaded, "give us the Labyrinth: help us to overthrow Bruehm and Emrys and bring unity to all."

Jareth turned away to keep his blue eyes from betraying his own weakness, his own doubt. What if Morgan could save Sarah? Truly save Sarah? Was the price that high? Was the Labyrinth really worth losing Sarah? What did he care about the Aboveground or the Underground, for that matter?

And yet, deep within the core of his being, the Goblin King felt his own conscience stirring as he was faced with a truth that he could not deny on his cruelest, most selfish day.

"Only the High King can bring unity, Megrim," he stated slowly, calmly as he turned to once more face his rival, "and I will not break fealty with him. Take Sarah, take my kingdom, but first you must take my life."

Megrim's confident smirk instantly became a black, glowering frown as a crystal formed in his gloved hand. Sparks flinted in his black eyes as he raised the crystal in his hand, poised to strike.

Lightning flashed in the sky above him, casting an eerie shadow across his dark, menacing features.

"So be it," the Mountain King said coolly, his teeth baring in a baleful grin.

Jareth stood bravely before him, an amused smirk playing the corners of his mouth as his brow arched. He was every bit the Goblin King he was two-and-a-half years ago when he first met Sarah: proud and calm, never missing a beat. Megrim could take everything, but he could not destroy him, not truly.

_I love you, Sarah,_ his heart declared.

The crystal was thrown and the very surrounding the Goblin King seemed to be bathed in brilliant light, the almost blinded him. A booming voice echoed in his ears and a familiar fragrance wafted on the wind, permeating him. –Then there was darkness.

Jareth opened his eyes weakly to see two shadows against the light, one was speaking to him, but the voice was distant and he could not understand the words being spoken.

"Sarah…" he said softly. He struggled in vain to reach for her, but his body would not obey him. "Sarah…"


	18. Chapter Sixteen

_Hey guys! Thanks so much for the reviews!!! --I can't believe so many people like this story and it made my day to hear someone say it was like a book.  
__  
But good grief, you guys are demanding. --I'm exhausted from living up to your expectations of me. lol._

_Oh, there's a brief, mild, David Bowie reference in this chapter if you can fish it out. --Also I really want to give credit to my favourire author, Stephen R. Lawhead: his Arthurian books gave me a lot of the inspiration for the plot twists and expositions in this chapter. _

_S. Cartwright._

Chapter Sixteen  
"Morgan"

When the Goblin King opened his eyes again, he was surprised to find himself in an open room, bathed in light. The sound of rushing water echoed in the distance and the air was tinged with the sweet smell of rain-washed earth. Hushed voices were talking in another part of the room, but he really didn't care. His heart was numbed by a pain too deep, too great for his being to grasp: Sarah was dead.

"Ah, you're finally awake, old friend," a silvery voice rang through the room as Jareth turned his head on the linen pillow to see Emrys and Bruehm walking toward him.

"Megrim?" he asked, sitting up slowly; wincing a bit as he did.

Emrys turned to Bruehm for a moment and sighed.

"He escaped," was the unwelcome reply. "The Forest King and I could barely pull you out in time."

"What news of-?" Jareth stopped, unable to say the name for fear that the answer would confirm the very worst.

"Every available resource has gone toward finding your queen," Bruehm told him, his voice deliberate and sympathetic, and his eyes softened in compassion.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About a day," was the answer: Jareth didn't really care who said it.

_Too long,_ he thought dismally, feeling the numbness upon his heart thaw into a burning pain. It had been too long: she could barely last an hour without him, how could she possibly survive more than a day? The pendant was only so powerful, it must have worn off. Even if it hadn't, no doubt Megrim had murdered Sarah himself by then.

Every window in the vast room was open, but it felt as though the walls were closing in around Jareth, as though the sky would crumble on top of him. His arms were aching from the lack of her warmth, his eyes were sore to see her face, his ears were straining for the sound of her voice, her laughter and he could never have it again. He could never hold her, never kiss her again, never watch her green eyes burn with rage as she argued with him, never silently bear witness to the innocent blush on her cheeks when he was too close.

"Lord Goblin King," began Emrys, "there is something you must know."

Jareth looked up at him with eyes that seemed almost devoid of life, save for the distant sorrow buried deep within them.

"In another time," Emrys continued, "another life, I was called Myrddin. I had a queen, a wife, called Ganydda. She was my joy, my curse, and my weakness –just as Sarah is yours. I thought that by hiding my love for her, I could protect her from any who would seek to harm me through her, so I was cold and distant, but I could not stop the light in my eyes when I heard her voice for all the wisdom and power of the High King. –In those days, a shadow crept into the land and began to whisper lies to mortals and fae alike. The lies were against the High King, against his return, and against the Council that stood to represent him until that day. –Ganydda became ill and no healer could save her. I was desperate. I thought nothing could be more painful than enduring eternity without her, so when the deceiver came to and told me she could save my queen, all she asked was my allegiance, I gave it readily."

"Morgan?" Jareth heard himself say.

"Yes," Emrys replied, a dark shadow falling upon his fair features. "Morgan. –I gave her my kingdom, my allegiance, everything, all to save my precious Ganydda, all to keep her in my arms forever." The River King paused a moment, as though fighting with the memories of his past, the past no one had ever heard him speak of. "When it was over and I'd come to my senses, when I realized that I had sold the world, that I had betrayed the High King, my heart died within me and the love I felt for Ganydda with it. I hated her for my mistakes, my sins: I couldn't even look at her without thinking of the evil I had done." Jareth thought he saw tears gleaming in the fae's grey eyes as he spoke. "And Ganydda died. She died alone; I wasn't there to hold her, or comfort her, or say goodbye. I couldn't even ask her forgiveness: it was too late."

"And you exposed Morgan before the Council," the Goblin King finished, wanting to spare his friend the pain of reliving such memories as his own heart ached at the thought of his precious Sarah dying at Megrim's hand, or alone in a cell racked with the terrible pain that encompassed her very soul. _Forgive me, Sarah,_ he thought, _I failed to protect you._

"I did," the Fae answered evenly. "Morgan tried to discredit and when that failed she pointed out my own treachery to the Council. The fact I exposed her, that I had already lost all that really mattered to me, absolved me in the eyes of the law, but nothing they said could ever make me forgive myself or help me to find peace. –I though, at least, if Morgan was gone… And now she's back."

Bruehm stared hard at Jareth, almost as though he could see through the clouds in the Goblin King's blue eyes.

"You were strong, Goblin King," he said. "You chose the higher path, the right path."

"And I lost my wife," Jareth pointed out bitterly. "I know you think I have no heart, Lord Bruehm, but I am far from the monster you believe rules the Labyrinth."

"No," Bruehm agreed, "you are nothing like your father."

Jareth eyes widened as his features hardened like chiseled stone.

"So it was you who killed him," he mused.

The Forest King shook his head, smirking. "I warred with him, I was against him, but I am not so cowardly as to destroy my enemy in such a covert fashion. I face my enemies on the battle field like a soldier."

"Peace, both of you!" Emrys commanded. "The past matters not: the important thing is the task at hand. We face an enemy greater than we could ever imagine."

"No enemy is too great," Jareth stated, his eyes growing distant and sad as images of Sarah's smiling face flashed through his mind vivid as day, "when you have nothing left to lose."


	19. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

"The Oubliette"

The first thing Sarah saw was a bird perched upon the window sill, chirping and eyeing her curiously. The room smelled so terribly familiar it made her ache and the light was so different from the Underground: it seemed shallower, earthier. She heard the sound of people shuffling around downstairs: wooden cupboards were being opened and closed, oak floors were creaking –it was just like home.

_Home!_ Sarah jumped into sitting position and looked around to find herself back in her old room, surrounded by her things. Everything was just as it was when she had left: nothing had even collected dust. She could hear the sound of her father talking to Karen downstairs and Toby's laugher echoed from the kitchen.

"I'm home," Sarah breathed, raking her eyes over her surroundings.

"Yes, you are," rang a clear voice behind her. She turned to see Jareth standing by her window, looking down at her with an irritated scowl. "The spell that binds you to the Underground is broken."

"But how?" Sarah asked, looking up at him in bewilderment. Something didn't feel right: he looked like Jareth, but the feel was completely different. There was something about the way the energy his body emitted that felt terribly wrong.

"Lord Megrim found an ancient incantation and now you're home," Jareth answered coldly, huffing a little. "Really, Sarah: I thought this is what you wanted. –Now give me back my pendant and I'll be on my way."

Sarah's hand immediately went to the gold medallion, shielding it protectively as she inched away from him as he approached.

"Why do you want it?" she demanded, staring warily into eyes that were fast becoming dangerous.

"Because it's mine, foolish girl," the Goblin King spat. "It belongs to me. –Now give it here!"

Jareth eyes flashed brilliant black in anger and hatred as he darted towards the bed.

"NO!!!!" Sarah screamed.

Suddenly, a flash of brilliant light came from the pendant, causing the fae to fall back as the room dissolved into a dark cell of stone and shadows, with only a dirt floor and one opening: above. Sarah blinked her eyes to adjust to the darkness as she realized that she was in an oubliette with no other than Megrim. The pendant was still glowing hot against her breast, warning anyone who dared to touch it or its keeper and Megrim's terrible black eyes glared menacingly at it.

"It could have been so easy, little one," Megrim said, his voice low and taunting. "You could have just handed it to me willingly and your death would have been swift and painless. Now I have no choice but to leave you here to die on your own. –And die you will, Goblin Queen: along with your idiot husband."

Before Sarah could respond, the Mountain King had disappeared, leaving her alone in the darkness. She looked around for any way to escape, but saw nothing. The stone walls were too sheer to climb and, even if they weren't, the oubliette was so deep, the only hint she had of an opening was the faintest gleam of light far above her. She was trapped with no Hoggle to save her and no way to save herself.

She began to feel mildly drowsy and instinctively knew it was her body finally responding to the separation from Jareth, so she laid down on the dirt floor, curling herself into the fetal position. She longed to be back at the Goblin Caste, safe in her bed with her husband beside her, or sitting by the hearth, looking up at him as he stared into the slowly fading embers.

"Jareth," she whispered to the darkness, holding herself to fight the longing to feel his embrace.

Closing her eyes, Sarah thought back to every moment they had shared from the moment he appeared in her parents' room that stormy night, to the night he came to take her away to be his queen. She remembered the warm fervency in his eyes as he stared at her in the ballroom and the sorrowful passion reflected in them as he offered her dreams to her. She replayed the moment he confessed his love for her so many times it was almost real and her lips could still taste his kiss.

The Goblin King truly loved her: she had no doubt of this. Was this gnawing ache in the pit of her stomach proof that she truly loved him?

Thousands of miles away, Jareth stood on a balcony outside the River King's Hall, watching mindlessly as the sun set over a rushing waterfall. His gloved hands gripped the Birchwood railing as though it was the only thing keeping him from floating into infinity.

He tried not t think of the moment he first saw Sarah, or of how it felt to dance with her. He envisioned her cruel eyes looking up at him, breaking his heart with the merest glance; he remembered how sweet her kiss tasted and how he would never feel her arms around him again.

How could she be gone?

"Lord Jareth," called Bruehm's voice from the threshold that lead back into the palace, "the others have arrived. We must begin."

Jareth sighed, refusing to show his face to the Forest King, knowing his eyes would betray him.

"One moment, Lord Bruehm," he said simply, blinking his eyes against the sting.


	20. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen  
"The Wish"

_My darling, I am waiting for you. How long is a day in the dark, or a week?  
__-The English Patient_

Sarah lay curled up on the cold ground as the hours slowly slipped away. Oubliettes were places to forget and be forgotten and she was beginning to understand why. It seemed as though the utter darkness had seeped into her very being, causing her to wonder if she had ever known a life outside of that dreadful pit or if it had all been a dream. Had she really beaten the Labyrinth? Was the Goblin King really in love with her?

"_I will always come for you, Sarah,"_ Jareth's voice whispered in her mind. She closed her eyes and remembered how it felt to have his cool hands cupping her warm face. She could almost see his eyes as they stared into hers, silently affirming his vow. _"I will always love you."_

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Lord Jareth," addressed Bruehm, entering Emrys' library where the Goblin King stood pouring over maps, "the Council has decided."

Jareth's eyes ceased their roaming and rested upon the Mountain Realm, burning darkly as he thought Sarah and Megrim.

"What have they decided?" he inquired, keeping his voice as brusque and stoic as possible.

"The battle is to take place on the slopes of the Great Mountain," Bruehm answered. "I have been elected to lead the charge and I am appointing you my general."

The Goblin King's head shot up and he stared at the fae across from him in askance.

"You are not your father," Bruehm restated, "and you know Megrim better than anyone."

"But I don't know Morgan," Jareth pointed out; the name _Morgan_ passing his lips cautiously, almost as though she might appear before them.

"We are not to touch Morgan La Fae," the Forest King replied. "She is for Emrys."

Jareth frowned and glowered darkly at the map before him. –Yes, Emrys had more right to that witch's head than anyone among them, but Jareth knew full-well the power darkness had upon one's being. Once touched with it, one would always be bound to it in some small way: be it temptation or guilt. The River King was not likely to fall into temptation again, but guilt… Could he withstand her when she reminded him of Ganydda?

The thought of poor Ganydda dying alone brought images of Sarah flooding into his mind. Would the pain never end?

Jareth felt a firm hand upon his shoulder and turned to see that Bruehm had circumvented the table and was standing beside him.

"You're thinking of your queen," Bruehm noted, his features soft and understanding. "You cannot hold onto the grief forever, my friend."

The Goblin King kept his gaze straight ahead as he stood there rigid from the top of his head to the soles of his boots. Had the Forest King called him his friend? –It was so strange to think that, after so many centuries of feuding, his greatest enemy was now comforting him. –Could Jareth call him friend?

"It's very strange," Jareth observed. "I never thought…" He stopped and shut his eyes against the sting.

The Forest King squeezed the Goblin King's shoulder before removing his hand.

"It is not cowardly to weep, King of Goblins," Bruehm sighed. "I wept when my queen was killed."

Jareth swallowed hard and lowered his head in shame. It had been Jorum that slew Bruehm's precious Queen Charis and their unborn child with her. Those days had become mere chapters in history books -Queen Charis was slain, King Jorum was assassinated-, yet, even with this new promise of peace between the Goblin Kingdom and the Forest Realm, those chapters in history lived vividly within their hearts.

Could they ever let go of such a cruel past?

"You did all you could do," the Forest King told him, bringing Jareth's mind back to the present.

Jareth remained silent and, sighing again, Bruehm turned and quit the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his grief.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Silently, the hours faded into days and Sarah felt her body slowly weaken until the ache returned. She tried not to panic, to be calm, but her own mortality was becoming increasingly real to her as she lay there, fighting against the darkness without and within herself.

"_I will always come for you, Sarah. I will always love you."_

Jareth told her they were bound to each other. If so, then she must have some pull upon him as he did over her. He could feel when she was weak, surely she could feel him if she focused.

Sarah squeezed her eyelids shut and clutched the pendant around her neck.

"Come find me, Jareth," she said softly, feeling the pendant begin to glow again. "Come find me please."

A sudden shock jolted through her entire being, almost lifting her off the ground as she cried out in absolute pain. It felt as though something had tried to rip her very soul from her body, like a thousand knives had stabbed every inch of her flesh. Dropped against the ground, she tried to scream in pain, but it was too great and she was too weak.

Sarah could feel her spirit leaving her, as though a part of her was slowly rising out of herself, away from the agony. A part of her wanted nothing more than to surrender to the sweet release that taunted her, but another held on desperately, if only to see Jareth one last time.

_Say the right words. _

"I wish the Goblin King would come save me," Sarah whispered as a solitary tear fell from the corner of her eye and rolled off her temple, "right now."


	21. Chapter Nineteen

_Oh, I'm delighted you all love this so much, but if you want a well-written story with lengthy chapters, you must give me a little time to develope them, or I'll tip you head-first into the Bog of Eternal Stench before you can blink! (j/k)_

_Oh, there's another Bowie reference. This one is less subtle_.

_-S. Cartwright_

Chapter Nineteen  
"The Blackest Shadow"

"_I wish the Goblin King would come rescue me…Right now." _

Jareth stood ram-rod straight as the words echoed in his mind in a whisper that seemed as loud as the waves crashing against the shores. He could feel the pull against his heart, his being, demanding him to obey the call: Sarah's call. Sarah was calling him, she was alive. He could hear his breath come out in a startled gasp as the realization hit him like a brick wall.

"I'm coming, Sarah," he promised, summoning his energy. "Wait for me."

"Stop," said Emrys' voice from the doorway. "Do you know what you're doing?"

Jareth stared at the older fae in shock. How could Emrys, of all people, not understand?

"What if it's Morgan?" Emrys challenged, "What if it's one her tricks, luring you to the mountain?"

"Sarah is dying," Jareth hissed.

"Or she is already dead," the River King stated sorrowfully.

"Then I have nothing to lose," the Goblin King stated firmly. "I will not lose her again."

"But at what cost will you save your queen?" Emrys challenged. "Your kingdom, your allegiance, your soul?"

"I gave her up for it once," he said evenly. "I have the strength to let her go again, I know this, but I will not live without her. I will not let her die alone and you cannot stop me. You won't."

Emrys lowered his head in defeat.

"You cannot face Morgan, Jareth," he said quietly. "You have no idea how powerful she is and she will destroy you."

"I will not wait for an army to be assembled, Emrys," the Goblin King seethed.

Emrys nodded knowingly. A shadow had fallen over his clear grey eyes like a cloud to hide the past from Jareth's piercing gaze. It seemed that time had finally taken its toll upon the fae, that the memories had finally caught up with him.

"Then I must come with you," he said simply.

Jareth opened his mouth to protest, but Emrys cut him off.

"I died a long, long time ago," he continued, "and I've loved all I needed to love."

The Goblin King reluctantly nodded assent. It seemed to him that Emrys was no longer imposing with his wisdom and years. He seemed almost human; he was tangible and real. It was as though autumn hide finally given way to a clear winter and Emrys was a tree with no more leaves or flowers to hide behind, only pure snow and the naked truth of what existence really was.

As Jareth looked into those deep grey eyes, they had never seemed more clear or unreadable in all the years he had known him.

"Ashes to ashes," Emrys said as a wan smile played at his mouth.

………………………………...

The Great Mountain was not named in folly: it was the highest peak in the whole world (Aboveground and Underground) and, in the days of the High King, had been a place of light and goodness, but after the Dark Times, it remained veiled in shadow: it was a place of mines and caves, and dark beings hidden in the Deep. Emrys would not speak of them, but Jareth had heard the whispers since childhood. Jorum had always told him they were simply rumours, but, try as the Goblin King might, who could not shake off the terrible weight upon his heart whenever he was close to the Great Mountain.

The Hall of the Mountain King was, appropriately, dug out of the heart of the mountain. It was a majestic sight to behold: grand pillars of black stone rose higher than the tops of the oldest trees in the Forest Realm and the floor gleamed of polished jade. The sight never failed to steal one's breath, even after a thousand years, but Emrys and Jareth were immune to it. To them, the grandeur of the Hall was as foul coal and ash, tainted with the evil of the ones who ruled it.

When they entered the throne room, Emrys turned to the Goblin King as he drew his sword.

"Here we part, my friend," he said, calmly. "I wish you a better future than my past."

Jareth felt a knot catch in his throat as he stared into Emrys' grey eyes for what he knew was the last time. It didn't seem possible: Emrys was always so indomitable, so constant. He always thought Emrys would live forever, that he would remain when the world had fallen. Emrys had always been in his life, he was like a father to him. How could he die?

"The High King will return, Jareth," Emrys promised. "Keep your allegiance to him."

The Goblin King nodded, his heart too full for words.

"Long Live the High King," he declared, clenching his jaw tightly.

"Long Live the High King," Emrys echoed.

The Goblin King and the River King clasped hands in brotherhood, a symbol of fellowship from the days of old, scarcely breathing under the apprehension of what was to come. When they parted, each would go to their own battles, against adversaries who knew them too well, and for prizes that were far to dear --justice and love. Neither could afford to lose, yet both had nothing they could lose.

Without a word, the kings turned and went their separate ways.

_"Do you love me, Myrddin?" Ganydda's sweet voice asked, drifting across the pool that separated them._

_Myrddin looked up into her fair face, framed sweetly with her auburn tresses, her blue eyes gleaming at him beneath the soft veil of her thick lashes, set against the fine porcelain of her skin. Her lips rested in a straight line that promised to soon smile again. It seemed as though Ganydda was always smiling like the sun on a warm summer's day._

_"Of course I love you, Ganydda," he assured her, smiling at her._

_"Will you always love me?" she questioned, a teasing grin playing at the corners of her mouth as her eyes danced with mirth._

_Myrddin let out a low growl as he darted around the pool, causing her naked feet to take flight as she fled him. Her laughter rang amidst the trees like a lark's song, intermingled with playful calls for protection against her attacker. They were at a stale-mate: running in circles, always coming back where they were, until Myrddin grew weary of the chase and willed himself be her side, catching her in his strong embrace._

_"I will always love you, Ganydda of the Lake," he vowed, kissing her soundly.  
_  
"I will always love you, Ganydda," Emrys whispered softly. "I'm coming back to you now. Will you forgive me?"


	22. Chapter Twenty

_Hey, sorry that it's been so long since the last update and this isn't very long.  
_

Chapter Twenty  
"The Deep and the Precipice"

Emrys' path took him up an ebony staircase that seemed to stretch unto the sky. At any moment, he knew, Morgan could show herself or the steps give way beneath him, but his steely eyes and unaffected countenance remained fixed and unchanged. What could Morgan do, after all? Kill him? She did that a lifetime ago and, even if he failed to destroy her, he did not doubt the Bruehm would succeed.

The world seemed to stop in those tedious minutes as he made his climb to the top of the staircase. Never had Emrys felt such a heavy, agonized silence. It was like being in the eye of a storm: he could only wait, knowing that the winds would come crashing around him without warning.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Jareth followed the pull of Sarah's soul upon his. He could not transport himself to her side –some great power was barring her from him– but he could still sense her, still feel her. She was in agony and fading far too fast.

"_Hold on, Sarah,"_ his heart pleaded. _"Wait for me."_

The pull led him deeper and deeper into the Mountain, a place of dark and frightening things. The Goblin King barely escaped the notice of ancient and evil beasts, resurrected from the Deep. Fouler creatures he had never beheld: many were horned, all were fanged and clawed, and all exuded absolute hatred that chilled him straight to his marrow.

The further into mines Jareth went, the heavier his heart became and the more terrible the sights, the smells. It amazed him that such darkness could grow within the Underground unchecked and unfelt by the other fae. This treachery had been the work of millennia, not a few months of renegade village-sackings. How could they all have been so blind?

………………………………………………………………………………

At last, Emrys came upon a great door of stone. In latter days, the edifice had been carved with the wisdom and truths of the High King, but time and darkness had caused the markings to all but fade away; the words now remembered only in the hearts and minds of the true allies of the High King.

The door opened of its own accord to reveal the blackening sky against the snow covered peak of the Great Mountain. Above his head, the clouds swirled and billowed as thunder and lightening cracked around him, threatening to shatter the foundations of the world. Winds howled as though they possessed the voices of the damned; such sounds that would have turned his hair white, had it not already been so.

"Morgan!" Emrys' mighty voice bellowed above the wind, "MORGAN!!!" He roared unto the skies.

And it was then she appeared before him, beautiful and terrible as she always had been. Her black eyes pierced straight through him, reading his every secret, knowing his every sin. They flashed coldly with a gleam that was both wicked and beguiling as her perfect red mouth curled into a smiling sneer. Her black hair fell like silk over her white shoulders as she stood upon the mountaintop unmoving, unshaken.

"Greetings, Myrddin," she said, her voice low and smooth.

"You," he declared, pointing his finger accusingly and unwaveringly toward her black heart, "are guilty of treason against the High King! You are guilty of murder. You are guilty of black arts. You are guilty of deception. You have conspired against the Aboveground and against the High Council. The penalty for these crimes is death and I am here to carry it out, as it should have been done seven thousand years ago!"

"Have you grown weary of waiting for your High King?" Morgan challenged with a smile that seemed coquettish and malevolent at once.

Emrys did not answer, but thrust his hands forward, his naked palm facing Morgan as a brilliant energy projected from them. The Dark Queen was too quick for him, however, and had his white force intermingled with her own rank, black force that matched his in both might and potency.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

A mighty roar resounded from the Deep, shaking the very foundations of the Mountain and freezing the Goblin King's heart with fear. –Was it Emrys or Morgan that enticed the Abyss to cry out? What other creatures lurked in Hades, waiting to let loose upon the world?

Jareth had seen many things in his years under the sky: he had seen darkness and he knew and pain well, but the heavy, blackness of the very air surrounding him (like freezing smoke bearing icy soot) seemed to weigh upon his very spirit –that part of him he thought would always be shielded from external forces by his internal fortitude.

_Sarah._ Her name echoed again and again in his mind as his body obeyed the pull between them. It seemed as though he could not wish away the time and the space that separated them hard enough. Every step that bore him closer felt smaller than the first, as though the distance was increasing, so anxious was his heart.

"S_arah,"_ he called, wondering if she could possibly hear him in midst of the Mines.

"_Jareth…"_


	23. Chapter TwentyOne

_Hey! I know it's been an awfully long time, but I really wanted to post something worth while and I had the worst writer's block until today._

_Thanks everyone for all your support, your reviews, and for reading, but, most of all, for your patience. :-D_

Oh, Tea and Cakes, I DEFY you to find the David Bowie-song reference in this chapter.

Sincerely,  
S. Cartwright  
ps. Stole the chapter title from J.R.R. Tolkein and it's painfully obvious. --I only wish I had a fraction of his genius. 

Chapter Twenty-One  
"The End of the All Things"

The Great Mountain rumbled and bellowed beneath the blackened sky. The whole world seemed to be quaking as a roar resounded from the Deep, threatening to unleash all the ills of the Abyss upon the earth. Thunder cracked and lightening flashed, winds howled and clouds billowed above the mountain's crest, engulfing the two immortals that battled there.

Not even the sight of two mighty armies, however vast and powerful, however frightening or majestic, could compare to this battle of the fates. Emrys clad all in white, now shone like a star fallen from heaven. His ancient eyes gleamed and were as hard and resolute as stone. In his years under the sky, he had been known for his unwavering steadiness and the deep truth within his eyes. He was the oldest and wisest of his kind, but now it was as though even he was seeing truth for the first time. The High King could have been standing upon the precipice with him, telling him that his actions were right and just, so strong was Emrys' faith.

He had spent centuries in darkness: he would not let Morgan rob him of light once again.

Morgan, on the other hand, seethed in hatred. The blackness of her soul and appearance was bleaker and fouler than anything anyone had seen before, even in the deepest chasms of the Mines. She was terrible, in her steely beauty; hideous in her terrible hatred. Rage transformed her alabaster skin into something pale and sickly, like the flesh of a corpse trapped within ice: forever preserved and fair, yet ugly all at once.

As the clouds loomed over head and lightening lit the sky, the foundations of the Mountain shook with in protest as these two fae, these forces, battled one another. It was as though nature had conjoined itself to the battle of good and evil and the heavens and hell were raging against each other physically.

"Who are you, Myrddin?" Morgan demanded, her voice booming to be heard above the tempest. "What sin have I committed of which you are not also guilty? Did you not pledge your allegiance to me against your High King? Did you not deceive the council? Did you not turn to the black arts to save your precious queen? How dare you lay these accusations before me?"

This same speech had rendered a much younger Myrddin mute at Morgan's trial all those ages ago, this same speech that had caused the fae to put condemn himself within his broken heart. But Myrddin had died that day and Emrys was born: a new and better man. The High King had sent his pardon and his new name and, though he could never forgive himself for the past, he rested his heart in the assurance that the High King had.

"I will answer for my crimes in eternity," Emrys said evenly. "You will answer for yours now."

Morgan only stared at him evenly as her mouth curled into a sneer.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lord Bruehm, what now?" asked the unsure voice of the King of the Fenlands from behind the Forest King.

"We wait," Bruehm stated simply. "We will give the Goblin King time to rescue his queen and Lord Emrys will destroy Morgan."

"How do we know he will succeed?" protested the younger fae.

Bruehm whipped around and stared down his peer with burning eyes.

"He will succeed, Lord Farrin," the Forest King replied evenly.

"And after that?"

Bruehm turned again, his cloak trailing behind him as he strode to the edge of the woods and looked up at the peak of the Great Mountain, watching the dark clouds gathering there.

"We will storm the mountain and kill everything we find," he answered, "or we will be destroyed.

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"_Sarah!_" Jareth's heart called, "_Sarah, where are you?_"

"_Oubliette."_

There! He had her.

"_Sarah, hold on to my voice,"_ he instructed.

He felt her take hold of him weakly, as though she were timidly grasping his hand and he could feel that it took all of her strength to do that much. He grabbed onto her with every ounce of his power as though he could crush her against him with his strong embrace. Closing his eyes, he felt himself come closer and closer to her; he could almost smell her again.

"Jareth," he heard a faint voice whisper.

The Goblin King opened his eyes to find himself standing within the oubliette, only a few yards from where his beloved Sarah laid and his heart leapt in joy and terror at once.

"Sarah!" he heard his voice come out in something that sounded like a sigh, a groan, and a prayer at once.

Jareth moved to destroy all space between them and take her in his arms and as far away from this evil place as he could, when he felt the presence of another fae. Megrim.

"So you've come for your queen at last," rang the menacing voice of the Mountain King. "Tell me, how does it feel to come all this way, only to fail? –She's too far gone, Jareth. No amount of stubborn embracing will bring her back."

"Megrim, you hound of hell!" Jareth hissed, turning to face his nemesis. "How could I have been so blind to your evil for so long? I was a fool, indeed."

"It's not too late, my friend," Megrim said, ignoring the Goblin King's vehement condemnation. "You and I can't save Sarah, but Morgan can."

"Not while she rots in the Pit," the Goblin King answered evenly, his eyes cold and unfeeling, "with you at her side."

Before Megrim could react, Jareth produced a strange dagger from his cloaks and threw it straight into the Mountain King's chest. The terrible eyes went wide as a strange sound echoed in his throat and he slumped against the wall. The dagger was made of iron: the same blade that had slain Jorum.

"Jareth," Sarah called feebly.

Instantly, the Goblin King was at her side, gathering her up in his arms, pressing her closely to him.

"Hold on, Sarah," he pleaded, kissing her face as his breast began to heave. He felt as though he was falling to pieces and grasped at her desperately to keep hold of everything. "Hold on, my love."

He felt something hot and wet upon his face as the burning ache in his breast released into shattering sobs. He could feel her being torn away from him, even as he clung to her, and he couldn't hold on: he couldn't keep her. He was too late and he couldn't bear to lose her.

"Please, Sarah," he begged, his voice breaking amidst his weeping. "Please, hold on. Don't leave… you precious thing."

"Jareth," she said faintly, moving her hand over his throbbing heart.

"Yes, my darling?" he said tenderly, struggling, in vain, to compose himself for her. "What is it?"

Sarah looked up into his blue eyes as they bored into hers and smiled softly, contently.

"I love you," she said, tears forming in her soft green eyes. "I had to tell you that. I love you, Jareth."

Before she could take another breath, her husband's mouth closed over hers, claiming it fervently and deeply. This was the moment he had waited for since he first saw her: she loved him. He kissed her as though he could melt into her, as though they could become one body one soul. He could almost feel her heart within his, almost hear her thoughts.

"_I love you. I love you,"_ his heart cried over and over again, as his lips refused to break their kiss for fear she would be ripped from him once he did.

Tears ran freely down both their cheeks, bathing each others faces. The Goblin King was sobbing against Sarah's lips; his heart exploding in her white hands and he could feel the quiver of her lower lip and taste the bittersweet liberation of her own suppressed emotions.

Then, Jareth sensed a light behind his closed lids and he held onto Sarah with all his might as the light intensified, engulfing them. He continued to kiss her and hold her as they were lifted off the ground in each others arms. They never once blanched; never showed fear: they were together, that was all that mattered.

Jareth felt Sarah's strength return to her all at once, as though nothing had happened, and then great power, vitality, exuding from her essence as a thousands voices seemed to whisper to them.

_The king has a queen  
A new age is begun  
A new world is seen  
Two have become one_

It felt as though the light was spiraling around them, carrying them up out of the oubliette and the Mines, bearing them into the fresh air and an open sky, even as the clouds loomed in the heavens. Jareth thought Sarah would cling to his shirt to keep from falling, but she didn't: she remained calm and collected in his arms as his senses danced to be within hers. Whatever was happening, Jareth knew that it was good.

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Bruehm's eyes grew wide to see a flash of brilliant light from the peak of the Great Mountain. In his peripheral vision, he could a see a soft light from the base of the Mountain, telling him the Goblin King and Queen were safe together, but what happened on the precipice of the Mountain caused the foundations to quake as a mighty roar resounded from the Deep and thunder echoed in the heavens.

Rain swept over the land as though angels lent their tears to purge it of evil, but something in the Forest King's heart told him it was a lament, not an action of zeal.

"Sound the horn!" he commanded, lowering the visor of his helmet and brandishing his sword.

"Long Live the High King!" he shouted, raising his naked blade high as the steel gleamed.

"Long Live the High King!" echoed the throng behind him.

The cry became as mighty and as tremulous as a roaring sea: one hundred thousand strong shouting unto the Darkness and their foe that good would prevail and that the foulest beasts of the Deep would not shake their faith in the return of their King, nor destroy them now without a bloody fight.

"Charge!" Bruehm shouted, his sword sweeping over his head to indicate the command.

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Emrys stood in darkness. The wind was gone as well as the thunder; Morgan was no where to be seen. Never had he known such silence, such peace. All was hushed and it felt as if he had always been there, as though he was apart of the stillness, then before him light came and, within the light, a door, and, before the door, stood only one radiant being.

_Ganydda._


	24. Chapter TwentyTwo

_Well, this is it. --Thanks so much to everyone for reading and reviewing: your support and encouragement has been  
staggering._

I hope that I haven't disappointed anyone.

Take care everyone!

Sincerely,  
S. Cartwright  
p.s. I recommend listening to Annie Lennox's "Love Song for a Vampire" while reading this chapter. 

Chapter Twenty-Two  
"Of Love and Loss"

Many songs would be sung and many tales of valor would be told of the Battle of the Great Mountain. Little facts would be written on scrolls for historical record: Megrim was slain, Bruehm lead the charge, and the United Armies claimed victory over the Dark Army. Even more magnificent were the ballads of the mighty battle between the great Emrys and the evil Moran, a battle no one had seen and no one could remember.

History and scribes cared not for the blood that was shed or for that hearts that were broken. They were uninterested in the sentimental detail that the Goblin King loved and regarded Emrys as a father and they didn't think it important to recall that Lord Jareth and Lord Bruehm embraced upon the battle field in forgiveness and brotherhood. No, such things were lost and what was remembered would be written cold ink that would never understand the lives of the ones who lived through such times.

The battle was not entirely victorious and it was purchased at a steep price: the life of Myrddin Emrys, King of Rivers and the guiding light of the Underground. A great cry of lament rose from the Mountain when Jareth and Bruehm found his still form upon the precipice. No one in the Underground could a world without Emrys. Emrys had always been there, since before the Dark Times, since the High King dwelt among them: how could they survive without him?

Megrim was slain and the Mountain was conquered, but no trace of Morgan La Fae was found. The Thirteen Lords ordered that every corner of the Underground and Aboveground be searched until she was found out and brought to justice for her crimes, but the oldest and wisest knew, in their hearts, that she would not be found and that they had no seen the last of her.

Emrys had no children and no heir, so his seat on the Council was left empty and desolate; a constant reminder of what he had been to all of them, what he had sacrificed for all of them.

The Goblin City was regained and what had been destroyed by war was rebuilt in peace. Jareth took his Fae Queen, Sarah, home upon his arm and, together, they reigned in peace, cherishing it because they knew how short lived it would be.

Sarah gave her king the heir he had so wished for: a daughter. During her pregnancy and confinement, Jareth had been absolutely confident that she would give him a son and prepared his household and kingdom for a prince. When he walked into the room after the delivery, she braced herself for his bitter disappointment in a girl; but, when he looked down at the babe in her arms she watched the Goblin King's chiseled face soften into an expression of utter joy as he instantly scooped his daughter up.

"Have you named her?" he asked breathlessly, scarcely breaking his gaze from infant's.

"No," Sarah answered, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "I was waiting for you."

"She is my Rose," Jareth declared proudly, carefully replacing the princess in her mother's arms and sitting on the bed next to Sarah so that he could hold both of them. "Our Rose…" he murmured against his wife's dark tresses. "You've already given me everything I could possibly want," he said, reciting her lines to him from that night, not so very long ago, when he had offered her anything within his power to grant. "You've made my dreams come true."

Sarah smiled as she felt him press a tender kiss to her temple and rocked her daughter within her arms.

Before she could say a word in response, they heard the sound of scuttling and a terrible crash outside the door. Growling, the Goblin King stalked across the room and threw open the door to find a horde of goblins scattered in the hallway, along with the remains what was once a decorative suit of armor.

"Eat baby!" cried one of the goblins, his yellow eyes wide with delighted expectation.

"No!" groaned another goblin, shoving the yellow eyed one. "Not _eat_ baby: _see _baby!"

"Yes!" the throng shouted with glee, hopping up and down giddily.

"You most certainly will not eat or see my baby," Jareth barked, kicking back a more daring goblin that attempted to slip into the chamber. "And if I catch any of you anywhere near this room or the nursery, you'll be the newest members of Prince Hoggle's Court in the Bog of Eternal Stench. –Is that understood?"

With many boxed ear and shove, Jareth sent the goblins back whence the came, closed the door to his chamber and turned to face his wife and child upon the bed. Sarah merely sat there looking at him with an arched brow and a coy smirk curling the corners of her mouth.

"Well," he sighed, "laugh!"

Sarah didn't need a second invitation: her face lit up and her mouth opened in silent laughter as she tried not to disturb Rose. Jareth watched with no small measure of satisfaction, taking in the sight of his two most cherished treasures together. Sarah's cruel eyes still bewitched him and her smile still stopped his heart. –He shuddered to think what power his wife and daughter combined would have over him.

"What is it, Jareth?" Sarah asked, regarding his wistful gaze.

Letting out a content sigh, her husband approached the bed and took the hand she extended to him. He sat down on the edge and removed his gloves before lowering one hand upon Rose's soft head and re-clasping Sarah's in the other.

"You still exhaust me," he chuckled, pressing her white fingers to his lips.

"Wait until Rose is a teenager," she teased, trying not to blush like a schoolgirl beneath his intense stare. "Then you'll know what exhaustion really means."

"Tell me you love me, Sarah," he entreated.

"I love you," the response came instantly as green eyes flashed in surprise at such doubt and need from him.

Jareth smiled softly and touched her cheek with his finger tips.

Rose began to grunt and fuss within her mother's arms, immediately diverting her parents' attention.

"Here," he said softly, "let me take her."

Sarah complied, carefully easing the babe into her father's arms. She smiled softly as she watched Jareth gently rock their daughter back to sleep. He looked down at the child he held with such warmth and tenderness, it caused her mother-heart to bleed.

"I saw my baby…" he softly sang, bringing a silent chuckle to Sarah's throat.

Unconsciously, the Goblin Queen's mind drifted back to that night four years ago when she ran the Labyrinth and first danced with Jareth. She replayed that moment in the shattered Escher Room, when he made his desperate plea:

_I ask for so little: just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave._

She didn't care that Jareth hadn't told her he loved her too: he said that with his eyes and his caress. He had always been forthcoming: _You have thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth… This how it will be between us, my dear wife… This is probably one of the few times in our life together that you will hear me say those words out loud, but always know, that they are true… I will always come for you. I will always love you. _

As if he sensed his wife's thoughts, the Goblin King looked up from his Rose's face and looked into his Sarah's eyes, almost as sorrowfully as he did that last moment before he entreated her to stay all those years ago, but now his eyes seemed to hold something new, something simple, but sincere.

"I do love you, Sarah," Jareth said, reaching out to press the palm of his hand to her soft cheek.

Sarah held it there with her own hand, watching the expression of peace fall over his features as his blue eyes closed. She had her castle, her kingdom, her king, and a child of her own. She was loved by her husband and she loved her own little family. She had her adventures and her fantasies… Her every dream. –Would the High King return to the Underground? Only he knew: Sarah was content with her happily ever after.

_The End_


End file.
